Private Drive
by savelyta
Summary: Upon arriving at Privet Drive for his last holidays with the Dursleys, Harry finds his uncle in hospital, his cousin in jail, his aunt in distress and his room occupied by a most unwanted intruder. These are going to be spectacular holidays!
1. Prologue

**A/N** Many thanks to Kimpatsu no Hoseki for beta-reading this story for me, thus helping me to finally post it :)

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><p><strong>Warnings: mm sex in future chapters, violence, self-harm, mild angst, hurt/comfort**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Draco, you mustn't go back to Lord Voldemort."

Draco was too busy running to wince at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. Since Snape turned up, he felt he was doing everything pretty much automatically. Running somewhere with his professor, two ideas kept looping inside his heated brain: Dumbledore promised me and my mother protection! I failed; the Dark Lord will kill me!

"You mustn't go back to Lord Voldemort". The words struck him with the power of a train. What? The man who'd just murdered the one who promised him and his family protection, was speaking out loud his silent worries.

"I thought you're bringing me there," said Draco, now wondering why on earth he'd been running with Snape all along.

The professor was busy shooting spells over his shoulder.

"You will go into hiding," Snape cut short.

"Where to?" panted Draco, exhausted from their breakneck pace. He stumbled over a root and fell face down on the cold wet ground.

Snape jerked him up by the scruff of the neck, thrusting a piece of a parchment into his hand. Draco produced a weak _Lumos_ and stared at several lines, written in a spiky handwriting.

"It's not an appropriate moment for jokes, sir," said Draco very sternly, looking up from the parchment. But Snape already urged him on, explaining, "No one will ever look for you there. I will take care of your mother,-"

"But! He hates me!"

"In your place, mister Malfoy, I'd rather relay on _his_ mercy than on that of the Dark Lord. You'd better never cross Voldemort's path again. And don't use magic at that place, you sure don't want unnecessary attention. Destroy the parchment..." Snape broke off, pushed the boy forward and yelled, "_Run, Draco_!"

Draco apparated some miles away from Hogwarts, drew his wand, uttered _Lumos_ and re-read an unfamiliar address with a very familiar name above it. His hands trembled, lines of spiky handwriting blurred, and he hated himself for this. After memorizing the address, he muttered a quick _Incendio_. He had nowhere else to go anyway. He'd become an outcast, an enemy for both sides – and each would want him dead. His safe and confident world crushed and collapsed, replaced by dangerous uncertainty.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Harry was sincerely surprised to see Aunt Petunia alone, at Kings Cross, lingering near a taxi.

She waited for him to approach her, avoiding the motley crowd which usually surrounded the boy.

He advanced warily, peering into her face, which looked careworn and somehow older.

"What happened?" he demanded instead of a greeting.

"Not here," barked Aunt Petunia and motioned him to get into the taxi. Harry waved one last time to his friends in the distance, knowing he would see them again soon enough. Just one month.

In the car however Aunt Petunia kept silent. Harry had the impression she had hard time fighting upcoming tears. He feared to ask whether someone had died. Finally, when Harry's head already threatened to explode from all the gloomy ideas of what might have happened, the taxi brought them to Privet Drive #4.

Silently, they entered the house.

"Now will you tell me at last what happened!" Harry couldn't help yelling, at the verge of his nerves.

"Shh!" shooed Petunia, looking around.

"What's wrong, Aunt?"

"Harry!" she almost lost control over her emotions, shook violently, suppressing a sob. "Oh, Harry." She fought with all her strength trying not to howl.

He grabbed his wand, then remembering he couldn't use it, rushed to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water. She drank it in long gulps.

"Harry," sighed she, almost collected. "Dudley was sent to prison."

"What?" Harry thought that even last summer it would have felt like an early birthday present. But now something had changed. He was merely surprised. He found it fair, but that's all. No jubilant triumph, no gloating delight. And he was also relieved - he already started to fear that Voldemort got to his cousin and uncle.

"He was accused of car stealing, beating up several kids, abusing elderly people,-" his Aunt was about to burst into tears once again, but with a great effort she composed herself and continued.

"Vernon's had a stroke. After the hearing…You know, doctors said he might have been predisposed to, but we hoped it wouldn't happen…at least not that soon… He's very bad, completely lame… Marge sent me away, said I'm a bad mother and even worse of a wife…"

Now Aunt Petunia couldn't help it, she collapsed into an armchair and finally burst into tears. Harry stood hesitatingly not knowing what to do. Cautiously, he put his hand onto her shoulder. She flinched.

"Harry," sobbed she. "You've got to help us!"

"How?" Harry asked confused.

"But you're a WIZ…!" nearly screamed Petunia, broke off and looked around in great fright someone might have heard it.

"You know perfectly well that I'm not allowed to use magic out of school till I'm of age," sighed Harry.

"But you can ask Dumbledore! He won't refuse you."

Light turned black before Harry's eyes for a split second. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath...

"Dumbledore is dead, Aunt," said he, and marvelled at how calm it came out.

"Wha…" Petunia gasped, clasped hands to her mouth and stared at Harry with eyes full of shock and terror.

There was a long heavy silence, and then the Aunt asked in a meek tone, "How?"

"He was killed," Harry didn't want to elaborate.

The expression of shock and terror on his aunt's face become even more intent.

"But if he's dead, who's going to protect you? If he, the most powerful wizard ever…" she froze with her mouth open, panic in her eyes.

Suddenly she jumped up, embraced Harry so that the air left his lungs, and whispered something rather incomprehensible, which sounded much like "I'm so sorry my boy, my poor boy…"

Then, obviously appalled at her own demonstration of affection, she pushed him away, and sank into the armchair again, exhausted.

Harry stood there, flabbergasted.

"Well, I... I guess I'll ask someone else to take care of Dudley and Uncle…"

He felt very uncomfortable with this new Aunt Petunia, and a very unpleasant thought struck him.

"Aunt, what did you give me for my 11th birthday?"

She looked at him rather taken aback and injured, "Do you really think it's the right time to remember old grudges?" Her voice was rising threateningly.

"No, it's not like this. I just… OK, what was the name of the school you told the neighbours I go to? Please simply answer that."

"St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys," said Aunt mostly automatically. "Oh, Harry, you think I'm not myself?"

"Yes, I mean literally. That's why I will have to ask you some question."

She nodded, obviously not quite comprehending.

"So what did you give me for my 11th birthday?"

"You know perfectly well that nothing!"

"What happened when we were at the zoo that year?"

"You launched that ugly giant snake on Dudders!"

"I didn't, but it's not the point of the story now…" Harry was musing what question no Death Eater would have been prepared to answer.

"Got it! What clothes did you buy me to go to school?"

Aunt Petunia flushed, "Harry, stop this!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt, you will have to answer this one. Promise it's the last."

"But that's plain stupid! I didn't buy anything! I dyed Dudley's old clothes…"

Harry sighed, relieved.

"Now I know it's you, Aunt."

"What? Why would you think I'm not?"

"Because, I already came across imposters," explained Harry. "Constant vigilance," added he with a wry smile.

"What do you mean imposters?" Aunt Petunia huffed indignantly. "Who would impost _me_ of all people?"

"Someone who would like to get close enough to me."

Aunt Petunia suddenly flinched, squeaked feebly and whispered, "O God, I almost forgot…"

"What?" asked Harry worried.

"I think there's someone in the house," whispered she hastily, looking around nervously. "Someone hiding in your room I guess. I was too afraid to check... I sometimes hear noises, and food is missing. I thought it was that ugly nasty creature that Dumble… Well, you know, that little monster who obeys you. Didn't you make it come here?" asked she suspiciously.

"No, I didn't," said Harry gravely, grasping his wand.

Aunt Petunia gave a sound between a sob and a whimper and visibly shrank into the arm-chair, following Harry's gesture. "But you mustn't do magic!"

"Won't be much use of school anyway if I'm dead!" said he. "Go hide somewhere. Don't come out until I call you. If I don't show up in 5 minutes, run for your life." She nodded fervently, obviously very scared, but not daring to approach an armed Harry.

Heart pounding, Harry slowly climbed the stairs, making as little noise as possible. Maybe if he had luck, he'd surprise the culprit. No way it could have been Kreacher, so who else? Taking a deep breath, he turned the doorknob and entered.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"Malfoy."

The Slytherin was sitting on his bed, wand at the ready.

"You're not surprised, Potter," the intruder sounded slightly annoyed, or disappointed, Harry couldn't tell.

"Why would I be?" shrugged he.

"It's not like I visit regularly, is it?" insisted the blond.

"Not that I ever complained about it, Malfoy. The point is, why are you _here_ of all places." Harry tried to pierce the disturber with his gaze.

"Dumbledore promised me shelter," retorted the other matter-of-factly.

It took Harry all his inner strength not to show any shadow of emotion. Not in front of the ferret.

"He owes his death to you, Malfoy," he voiced coldly.

"I wonder what you'd have done in my place. If your family was being held hostage. But you'll never know. You don't have family," spat the Slytherin.

Harry turned very pale.

"In your place," started he menacingly, "I'd keep my mouth shut. You surely don't want to be delivered to the Aurors, do you? I have enough evidence of your crime."

"You don't!" Malfoy looked scared.

"Believe me, I do," stated Harry grimly. "I was there"

Malfoy blanched.

"Why didn't you…"

"I was Stunned," interrupted him Harry.

The blond looked down, still white, expression indecipherable.

"So why are you here?" asked Harry again.

"I'll tell you if you promise me shelter."

"Don't be ridiculous. You are not in the position to bargain right now. You won't stay here a minute longer if you don't give me a plausible explanation. And even after this, it is up to my Muggle Aunt to refuse or to give you shelter. Considering your intrusion, I don't think she'll be really enthusiastic about it. Well?"

"I was told to go here", uttered Draco, defeated.

"By whom?" wondered Harry idly, almost sure the answer will be _He-who-must–not–be-named._

"_Snape_."

"WHAT?" yelled Harry so that the other boy couldn't restrain a flinch. "WHAT THE HELL! DID HE WANT YOU TO SPY ON ME?"  
>"Actually not," said Malfoy calmly. "He just wanted me to go into hiding."<p>

"How _caring_," jeered Harry "So that you'd be occasionally able to deliver me to Voldemort."

Malfoy winced, and shook his head.

"He said I mustn't go back to the Lord, that he would kill me because I failed."

"And what about Snape?" demanded Harry fiercely.

"I don't know," the blond shrugged. "He just gave me a piece of parchment, and told me to go here, and then you got in between…." Malfoy paused, probably expecting Harry to tell what happened that night. But the Gryffindor kept silent.

"Potter," Malfoy looked at him pleadingly. "Will you let me stay?"

Harry hesitated. It was a hard decision to make. Probably the hardest in his life. What if it was it a trick? A trap? But Dumbledore's words "You are not a killer, Draco," were still ringing in his ears. Dumbledore was so disastrously wrong in Snape, so what about Malfoy? The boy did lower the wand then. He did seem hesitant. He did seem terrified at the idea that Greyback might have attacked someone of his fiends.And he obviously hadn't been happy with his task.

As if hearing his thoughts, Malfoy whispered, "I really didn't want it to happen. None of it. But my parents…" He sounded strangled, as if in pain.

_Pity_. Wasn't it what he had felt while thinking about Malfoy earlier? Harry remembered Sirius. When he believed his godfather, the closest thing to family, captured, he made very rash and stupid decisions, which resulted in Sirius's death. Not much better than Malfoy. What if throwing the boy out will really kill him? Voldemort didn't exactly treat his slaves considerately. And the blond disobeyed the direct order. Suddenly, a very old, half forgotten wisdom came to his mind, "It is better to risk saving a guilty man than to condemn an innocent one". Malfoy was not quite innocent, but still…

"You may stay".

Malfoy's head shot up, eyes full with hope and doubt, "Swear."

"Maybe you'll want an Unbreakable Vow?"

Malfoy shuddered.

Harry was pleased with the effect. "My word will do." said he firmly. Finally, it was Dumbledore's last wish.

Malfoy made a small sound which was much alike a sigh of relief.

"But you are to stay in the room. You are not to leave the house under any circumstances. You are not to contact anyone," seeing protest on Draco's face he added, "The post might be tracked. And…"

"What else Potter, aren't you tired of giving instruction?"

"No. Your wand." Harry stretched out a hand.

"No."

"Then out with you."

"Potter, you promised!" Panic was audible in the boy's voice.

"I don't want to be expecting an attack every second."

"I will not attack you. Besides, you are keeping your wand."

"I know that I won't attack you without reason, but I cannot be sure about you," argued Harry.

"It's not fair!"

"Life is not fair, I'll have you know."

"If I promise?"

"Like I'm going to believe a Malfoy. Wand," Harry made another step towards the other boy with outstretched hand.

Malfoy cursed under his breath, nevertheless reached out and handed his wand over to Harry.

"Damn you, Potter," said he aloud.

"Damn you, Malfoy," repeated Harry, half amused.

Now came the most difficult part. Harry opened the door, and called.

"Aunt Petunia, would you come up please! We do indeed have a guest," and turning to Draco, he whispered menacingly, "If I ever find out that you have something to do with the current state of my relatives, you'll regret that you'd been born, mark my word!"

"They already weren't here when I came!" managed to stutter Draco before Aunt Petunia stormed in, already irritated. She was keenly awaiting an explanation.

"Aunt Petunia, this is Draco Malfoy, my… _classmate_. Voldemort's got his family and he has nowhere to go. He is in danger and he needs protection. Could he please stay here till we've figured out how to hide him otherwise? He won't be of any trouble, right, Malfoy?" shot out Harry.

The Slytherin mumbled something incomprehensible. Petunia eyed him derisively.

"And he is sorry for intruding, aren't you, Malfoy?"

The boy nodded.

Aunt Petunia didn't seem to be in the slightest delighted at the prospect of having _two_ wizards in her house. "It's not a charity here, you know?" she huffed. Malfoy sank his head.

"I'm afraid we cannot just throw him out without causing his death, Aunt," reasoned Harry.

"Can't he talk for himself? Hey you, did cat got your tongue?"

Harry mentally cursed Aunt Petunia for provoking the Slytherin. Malfoy slowly rose to his feet, pale and determinate.

"He is…" Harry hoped to stop from the blond, but Malfoy disregarded him and spoke,

"Madam, I would have never dared to disturb your peace, but this is really a matter of life or death. You cannot imagine how bad I feel about intruding into your house, but seems there isn't any other place for me in the whole world to go."

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

Aunt Petunia regarded the blond with curiosity.

"Today, you've got the perfect chance to save a life. I'm sure such kind-hearted woman as you will not miss the opportunity. I promise I won't abuse your hospitality." With a humble bow, he sat down.

Harry put his dropped jaw back in place.

After some more wavering, Aunt Petunia snapped, "Fine," turned and left. The boys simultaneously exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Just don't get in my way, you both," she shouted from the stairs.

"Seems Muggles are easy to handle," smirked Malfoy. Harry decided not to start a row on the very first evening. They'll have plenty of possibilities for it later anyway.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Several days passed in some sort of a silent equilibrium. Aunt Petunia spent most of her time in the hospital with her husband, Harry's communication with Malfoy limited to "Pass the salt, please" and "Tea or coffee". Harry willingly took care of all the house chores, just not to stay with his own thoughts and his unwanted guest. He taught Malfoy how to handle the TV – Aunt generously allowed them to use it, when she heard that the boy had never ever watched a TV in his whole life. Besides house work, Harry concentrated on books he snatched from the school library; a couple of them were even from the Restricted Section. He still had to find out where the Horcruxes might be hidden. Voldemort didn't invade his mind, and he got three days of rather peaceful sleep.

To Harry's surprise, the Slytherin Prince endured his misery stoically and even with some dignity. He also read a lot – Muggle books, to Harry's immense astonishment, which he borrowed from the Dursley's scanty library, politely asking Aunt Petunia when she was in good mood. He tried to avoid speaking to Harry and being in the same room as much as possible, which was rather difficult, taking into account that Aunt Petunia condemned them both to Harry's tiny bedroom, not allowing them to enter Dudley's premises; the living room was also considered Aunt's private space when she was at home. So Harry spent most of his time in the kitchen, leaving his room to Malfoy, and coming up only to bed.

Hedwig graciously glided through the open window and dropped a much awaited envelop onto Harry's knees. The same evening Harry had arrived he'd asked Mr. Weasley to look what might be done about his uncle and his cousin. That must have been the answer.

_Dear Harry, _

The letter from Mr. Weasley read,

_On your request, we examined the state of your relatives very carefully and I'm absolutely positive that there was no magical interference involved to cause their nowadays condition. As for help, we'd gladly transfer your uncle to St. Mungos', if his family agreed to it, and he'd be on his feet in some days, but on the whole he is not that bad and presumably will completely recover in a month or so. As for your cousin, may it sound cruel, but he is better off where he is now, so we mustn't hide him otherwise from you-know-who._

_If something else needs to be taken care of, don't hesitate to let us know,_

_Yours, _

_Arthur Weasley_

_P.S. Best regards and warm hugs from Molly_

Further in a different, roundish handwriting was added, _Dear Harry, do take care! Ginny misses you much._

Harry smiled. It was Molly of course.

So Malfoy indeed had no hand in this, Harry thought somewhat relieved. And that Vernon stayed in hospital and Dudley in jail for the time being suited him just right. Though for a moment he toyed with the idea of moving Vernon Dursley to St. Mungos. The irony made him chuckle out loud. Probably when his uncle would come to senses, he'd just get another stroke. Anyway, he shared the proposal with his Aunt, which she declined with the same motivation.

It was Thursday evening – Harry took count of every passing day, eagerly awaiting his 17th birthday. They were preparing to sleep, Harry on his bed with the book, Draco on the floor, spreading out the old mattress which the Aunt dug up in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Potter," suddenly started Draco. Harry propped his head on his elbow to listen intently. He wouldn't mind a talk. Or a row, for a change. He was getting tired of almost absolute silence enveloping him; it was starting to drive him mad.

"I was thinking... maybe... you'll let me sleep in your bed. Once in a while. It's hospitality, you know..."

"Let you sleep in my bed?" Harry choked. "What are you hinting at?"

"What?" Malfoy didn't understand. "Oh! No, no, no! You got me wrong! I just meant... You let me sleep in your bed, while you sleep on the floor."

Harry laughed. He laughed long and heartily. "Listen Malfoy, I call it impudence. But it's only Slytherin. Give you an inch and you'll take it all."

Malfoy huffed.

"I thought we agreed on terms," continued Harry.

"You might be still a bit more welcoming. You know, I'm here not on my own will." retorted the blond gloomily, settling down on his mattress and turning his back on Harry.

Harry bit back the reply, feeling somehow guilty. Probably he'd been too harsh with the Slytherin. He didn't have it easy. Father in prison, mother... What happened to his poor mother? Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Voldemort had killed her. Inwardly, he shuddered at the thought.

"Narcissa! Where did that reprobate of yours go! ANSWER ME!" cold voice raged. "TELL ME!"

"My Lord", another voice, silky and ingratiating, interfered. "Poor woman was abandoned by her treacherous son and her unworthy husband, what can we expect from her? But behold, she remained faithful to you, she stayed here, with you, and didn't follow their disloyal paths."

"You! Tell me again, what happened that night? How came you didn't bring that scum with you? I cannot even sense him!"

"My Lord, to my utmost regret, as I told you, Aurors turned up, and I had to fight them, and in the fight I lost the boy. Probably he'd been killed. I'm ready to take my punishment for this, as I already suggested," the man bowed his head in reverence.

There was a flash of green lighting, people running, shooting curses, shouting, blood spluttered on the floor. But the blond head was nowhere to be seen.

The Lord stopped the umpteenth brain-scanning of his most loyal subordinate and turned his attention towards his hostess, or rather prisoner.

The woman stood, her pale face covered with tears, shaking with terror.

"Narcissa, the men of Malfoy family disappointed me severely. I won't endure if you disappoint me as well."

"I've never had it on my mind, My Lord!" she fell to her knees.

"I want to teach you a lesson, for the future!" Thin hand raised the wand.

"My Lord", the man interfered again, stopping the inevitable Crucio, "another thought occurred to me."

"Yes, Snape, spit out!" spidery hand lowered its wand.

"The woman here is of a very noble ancient pureblood heritage."

"So?"

"You know how rare pure blood of such old ancestry is. Narcissa is young, we could find her an appropriate match – and they will continue the ancient and most noble line of Black family."

Cold high-pitched laugh reverberated through the room.

"Cunning as always, that's my Snape. Fine by me. But I still want to find and punish that miscarriage of a pureblood line! If he is alive, will he dare not to come when I call for him?"

High pitched voice drifted away, replaced by mournful "Potter! Potter! Wake up! Wake the hell _up_!"

Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy kneeling at the bed-side. Even without glasses, Harry could see infinite terror in his now dark eyes.

"He is calling for me!" stuttered Malfoy and sobbed.

"What?" Harry didn't want to inform Malfoy about his own connection with Voldemort. For himself, Harry noted, that Malfoy's location was indeed hidden from Voldemort, so he couldn't had sent the boy here. On the other hand, Snape might have plans on his own, he is cunning indeed. He wanted to dwell longer on Snape, but Malfoy urged him, "Potter, do you understand, he IS CALLING FOR ME!"

"Yes, that's because he can't find you. You disappeared from him, so he calls for you."

"What if he knows where I am?"

"Malfoy, if he knew, he'd be right there. Don't be stupid, this place just doesn't exist for Voldemort."

Malfoy winced at the name.

"It burns," whined he. "It burns immensely. It's worse then when I got it."

"He is very angry." Harry knew it didn't sound consoling at all, but couldn't think of something better to say.

"Potter! Do something! Please!"

"Here," the dark-haired boy tugged him on arm and heaved onto the bed. Draco immediately drew his knees to his chin, and embraced them. Sitting like this he looked like a scared child.

"Look," Malfoy stuck out his left forearm. Harry nearly shuddered from repulsion. The ugly mark seemed to be alive, stirring, twisting, shimmering like a parasite upon the white skin. It felt all too wrong.

"Feel it, it burns so much!" lamented Draco.

Harry tentatively brushed it with fingertips. The skin under his touch actually burnt. Malfoy flinched, surprised, and looked into the other boy's eyes:

"Harry! Your hand is so cool, please…."

"Wait, I can bring ice from fridge." Harry jumped off the bed.

"No!" exclaimed Draco hastily, catching him by the wrist. "Please don't leave me alone!"

Harry nodded, took his blanket, seated himself next to Malfoy, and drew the blanket over them both. Then he put his palm over the marred skin. It felt disgusting, not only was it scorching hot, it really _stirred_. Harry's first impulse was to pull back, but Draco placed his fingers on his wrist and pleaded, "Don't. It feels much better like this." Harry didn't say a thing.

After a while Draco asked in a meek tone, "How long it is going to last?"

"I don't know. He usually looses interest in things too quickly. If it doesn't concern me," Harry smiled sadly.

"Harry," now Harry realised that the blond called him by the first name. Second time already.

"Do kill him, will you? Promise me that you will. Or I have nothing to live for."

"I cannot promise you, Draco." The name sounded very alien on his tongue, but he gave it a try. "You know, I'm just a teen wizard, like you."

"Potter! Don't you dare! Don't you dare to think like this! If not you, then nobody! Then we all are doomed!"

Harry smiled. "Malfoy, I'm flattered, really!"

"Potter, if you win, I dunno what I'll do! I'll... I'll just kiss you all over!"

"Than I better not!" snorted Harry, wondering whether Malfoy is always like this in private or it is just the shock at the sudden assault of his former master.

"Do you think I'm that poor of a kisser?" scowled the Slytherin offended.

Harry shrugged. He found the conversation too bizarre to go into it.

"I'll give you a preview!" Malfoy' eyes glittered wickedly.

Harry didn't even finish thinking 'If it takes you off your suffering – feel free to', when Malfoy swiftly closed the distance between them.

Harry froze. No one had kissed him like this before. Not that he had kissed much. But that felt definitely different from his rare make-out sessions with Ginny, not to mention his awkward kiss with Cho. It was – tender? No, not quite right. As if Malfoy was trying to show his gratitude to him. Not sexual, not sensuous, and definitely not wet, but very delicate and tentative. And promising. It ended before Harry even started to consider how he should react to this.

"Ouch!" the blond boy recoiled, gripped his arm tightly, tears shimmering in his eyes. "It's gotten worse! Potter, hold it, please, it really helps!"

Obediently, Harry took the marred arm in his hand, and snaked his own arm over the boy's shoulder for comfort. Malfoy clang to him, rare tears falling to Harry's shoulder, too exhausted to whine.

'I'm cuddling with Malfoy. In the middle of the night. On my bed. Only think of it!' "And he kissed you!" a small voice inside Harry's head added. 'Yes. But he was under effect of Voldemort's torture. It's war.' With this thoughts Harry slumbered off, still lulling Malfoy's agonizing limb.

When Harry woke up in the morning, Malfoy was sleeping on his mattress, as if nothing had happened. Harry wondered of he'd dreamt it all, but of course he'd never ask. Probably Malfoy was ashamed of his actions, and Harry decided not to bring it up.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

"Hey Potter, do you have a chess set?" asked Malfoy all of a sudden, putting a newspaper aside.

"Why, yes." Harry was busy cleaning the kitchen after lunch and wasn't really paying attention to the blond.

"And do you play?"

"Yes, of course I do," interested, Harry interrupted his work.

"What about a game?" suggested Malfoy.

"You want to play with me?" couldn't believe his ears Harry.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear. But if your perception is somehow disturbed, I'll repeat: do you want to play a game of chess with me?"

"Why all of a sudden?" the dark-haired boy tried to see the trick.

"Potter, could you _please_ stop being paranoid for half an hour?"

"I cannot."

"I just thought that since we are stuck here for Merlin knows how long, it wouldn't hurt to establish a _civil_ relation. I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of you regarding me as much as furniture."

Did Harry imagine it or did Malfoy sound hurt? But truth to be told…

They played long, late into the night, just once they changed location, when Aunt Petunia hushed them away from the living room. Both of them were surprised it ended in a draw. Harry himself suggested a rematch for sometime soon.

The days slowly dragged by, and Harry started thinking that having someone like Malfoy in the household helped a lot to pass the time. They occasionally had a small talk, or played chess, and the Slytherin's snide remarks never let Harry get bored. With every passing day Malfoy grew more and more acquainted with Muggle life style, and Harry would bet anything that the Slytherin started to respect the ones he used to despise so deeply.

Tired of reading, Harry was going to watch TV for a change; they should be airing a football match. But the place was already occupied by a certain blond Slytherin.

Malfoy was absorbed in watching stock reports, when Harry snatched the remote, switching on football.

"Potter," snarled Malfoy. "Let me see the reports."

"No. They are too dull," cut Harry short, wondering why on earth of all Muggle television Malfoy grew so fond of financial news. Not to mention his shock the other day when he found the blond reading Uncle Vernon's _Management for Dummies_.

"You just don't understand! I marvel at the ways Muggle find to make money!"

Harry huffed something inaudible.

"Then just go and cook dinner," suggested Malfoy.

"I'm not a darn house elf, Malfoy! If not me, you'd croak of hunger. I wouldn't mind a bit of gratitude."

Ignoring it, Malfoy tried to unclasp Harry's fingers, but in vain. Harry was holding tight.

"If you won't let it go," threatened the blond, "I'll bite you!"

"Oh, very scary!" mocked Harry, and regretted it immediately, because Malfoy sank his teeth into the side of his palm, nearly biting through the skin with his sharp canines.

"OUCH!" howled Harry, dropping the remote. "You bastard! I'll rip your throat out with my teeth!"

And before Malfoy could launch after the remote, Harry was on top of him, aiming for his neck. He was barely an inch away from the pulsing jugular, when realization struck him with the force of the speeding train. He was on the top of a _boy_, straddling him, holding his arms over his head, just about to bite his neck. He recoiled so abruptly that fell onto the floor, bumping rather painfully with his bottom. Malfoy snatched the remote and smirked, "This is what they call striking beauty!"

Later that evening, Harry finished washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen after dinner, and went upstairs, planning to go through another chapter of _Ancient Charms and Curses_, where he hoped to find some clues to whereabouts of the Horcruxes. Absent-mindedly he opened the door to his room and froze on the threshold. He was greeted by a highly unexpected sight.

Malfoy lay sprawled idly on his mattress, t-shirt pulled up, watching Harry intently, as if appraising him. Harry automatically drew the door shut behind him.

After a while of staring, Malfoy deigned to utter, "Potter, I'm going to wank, so you find another place to be, or you'd like to watch?"

"What?" Harry couldn't believe his ears. "What the hell?"

"I warned you," disregarded him Malfoy, and started to undo his trousers.

"What are you doing?" shouted Harry incredulously.

"I guess I've just told you – I'm going to wank," repeated the blond patiently.

"Malfoy, if you want to wank, go get to the shower, but I won't let you do it in _my_ room!"

"And how are you going to stop me, pray tell?" wondered Malfoy with a very keen interest, spraying his palms over his naked abdomen.

"Malfoy! This is… this is… impudence."

"Whatever. Listen, Potter," said the blond, resting on one elbow, "I haven't wanked for ages. I'm unsatisfied and frustrated, and if you are ready to face a sexually famished Malfoy, you are welcome. If not, let me be, I'm used to wanking with comfort and take my time. I really don't mind if you watch. Or would you like to participate?" the Slytherin accompanied his little tirade with a suggestive wink and a sexy smirk.

Harry huffed, pinned Malfoy to the floor with an icy stare, stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut.

How … How COULD the bastard be that shameless?

He went into the sitting room and turned on the TV. But his thoughts were far away from the screen. Why did it affect him that much? Gryffindor boys often wanked in the dorms, not that they discussed it. But no one ever offered him to _watch, _not to mention to_ participate._ Harry woke up from his daydreaming hearing angry footsteps. His Aunt stormed into the room, pale, worn and fuming.

"I. Want. My. Peace. NOW!" barked she. "Off to bed with you, or I'll lock you in!"

Harry found the idea of being locked in with Malfoy in the same small room strangely disturbing.

"Fine, fine, Aunt, I'm sorry," grumbled he, switching the TV off, and heading for his room. He'd gladly changed the path, but his aunt watched closely where he was going.

"Quick! Or do I need to escort you?"

Harry darted upstairs, skipping steps, quickly opened the door, slid inside and froze once again.

Draco lay spread on the floor, one hand over his chest, another down his pants, gripping his already very hard cock, thumb over its head. Harry gulped. He'd never seen something so… obscene? Or should he admit to himself that Malfoy looked incredibly sexy?

"Glad to see you are back. Care to join?" the blond was all seduction.

"Malfoy, you fucking exhibitionist! What if my aunt were to come in right now?"

"I'd say that I'm hot." smiled the brat, licking his lips. "Ain't I?"

Harry stomped to his bed, deliberately not looking, and lay down, facing the wall.

"Potter, don't be such a prude. You are a healthy young wizard; I know you haven't done it for ages, too."

"What?" Harry choked.

"Unless you use the shower. But you are never long enough in there. It must be very unsatisfying…"

"Get off and do what you want, just let me in peace!" pleaded Harry exhausted.

"Fine, I will _get off_. But I'll be _vocal_."

"What?" exclaimed Harry, noting to himself that he'd already overused the word tonight.

"If you don't like my fantasies, just don't listen," explained his vis-à-vis.

Not waiting for a retort, the blond started, "I'm on a beach in France. The weather is marvellous, soft warm wind flows over my body. This is a very secluded corner, and no one unwanted can enter it. I hear someone approach me, soft steps like whispers on the white sand. I close my eyes." Malfoy's speech flowed smoothly, voice velvety and mellow, and Harry found himself ensnared by it. He closed his eyes.

"I feel tender lips ghost over my own, a gentle touch, like flower petals, and I raise my head to meet them. I deepen the kiss, and we explore each other's mouths."

"A hand strokes my cheek, and the lips travel down my jaw, to my neck, towards this sensual spot."

Involuntary, Harry peeped over his shoulder to learn what that special spot was. Malfoy's fingertips lingered over his jugular. "It feels so nice. Hands come down to my nipples, but I become impatient and urge them downwards. Down, down, until they… ahhh…" soft moan escaped the blond's lips, and the dark haired boy watched mesmerized how the blond slowly, agonizingly slowly stroked his erection.

"Meanwhile the lips travel down all the way, and you take me in your hot wet mouth. It feels so good, Harry."

To that unexpected turn of events Harry's mind and body reacted differently. His mind told him it was disgusting, but his body felt such a strong jolt of excitement that he'd never ever experienced in his life. Barely suppressing a moan, which would echo the one of his neighbour, Harry felt an overwhelming desire to touch himself.

And then... Draco's body arched, mouth agape, the next instant he curled up, gripping his arm, and making another moan, of quite a different character – the one of sheer anguish.

Harry's first thought was that Malfoy came, thinking of Harry taking him into his mouth, but a split second later he realized what happened and was on the floor, holding the tainted arm tightly.

"Let me, I'll go to him!" barely managed to press out Malfoy.

"No way."

"Let me or I'll die. Pain, worse then Crucio…" it was difficult for Draco to breathe.

"No. He won't simply kill you. He'll make you suffer even worse."

"…can't be worse!" panted Malfoy, thrashing.

Knowing that it wasn't really comforting, Harry assured, "It can."

"Damn you, let me go or do some…" he gritted his teeth. Harry panicked. Malfoy bit though his lip, and was getting paler and paler, if he didn't even have the power to whine, then it must be really bad.

Harry embraced the slim figure tighter, hauling him upon his knees.

"Hold on, Draco, hold on, it will end soon," muttered he, trying to remember how long in fact had it lasted the previous time.

"… can't…" barely audible whisper. And then Harry looked into Malfoy's eyes and knew that it will be too late soon.

He didn't know any better then to snatch out his wand, and utter _"Finite Incantatem"._

Nothing. The ugly mark stirred, ripping on the flesh, showing its fangs, as if drenching the body with a deadly poison.

"_Ennervate_!" Slight gleam of hope in those fainting eyes, but no effect.

And then Harry didn't know how it came to his mind, maybe because it was his favourite, maybe because it helped in the worst and most dangerous situations, "_Expecto Patronum!"_

A very strange thing happened. This time it was not a stag, it was a thin silvery band, which wound itself upon the marred arm, and stilled there.

The pale confronted face relaxed. "Thank you." Grey eyes closed.

"Hey! Don't you…!"

"I'm fine. Just don't leave me, please."

"Come on," Harry helped the boy up. "Come on," he brought him into the bed, and rested nearby, holding his hand. "Now sleep."

Draco fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, but Harry didn't feel like sleeping at all. He was awaiting the owl from the Ministry any second - he used strong magic, and last time for his Patronus he was brought in front of the whole Wizengamot. This memory made his insides clench. Not that he was going back to school anyway, but having his wand broken didn't suit him just then. But the owl didn't come, and he thought either it had been delayed, or that the Trace remained off since Dumbledore cancelled it. Which suited him just right.

So he could think a little what to do about Malfoy. The Slytherin might be thousand times a git, but he suffered immensely, Harry knew it. And Voldemort was after him, now Harry was absolutely sure. Eventually they will have to leave the house, and he will have to tell someone about his unexpected guest. But this someone mustn't hurt Malfoy, because obviously everyone – the Ministry, the Aurors, the Order, and even the Death Eaters - were after him. That someone must help to bring the boy into hiding.

Harry decided to consult the cleverest person he knew, one Hermione Granger. He hoped she wouldn't hold old grudges, which he couldn't guarantee with Ron. It took him ages to figure out how to compose a letter without actually mentioning the name of Draco Malfoy, but making clear whom he talked about, but finally he came out with this:

_Dear Hermione, _

_How are you? How are your hols? Did you go somewhere with your family? _

_I'm stuck here as usual, though this time it's quite different. My uncle is in hospital, my stupid cousin in jail, and my aunt spends her time visiting them. So I'm pretty much left to myself, which is good. Well, I'm not completely alone. There's something I want to share with you. I haven't told anyone about it yet… Just imagine, upon arriving I found in my room **the** ferret. After some considering, I gave him shelter. And my Aunt gave her OK, too. You know, he seems to be really harmless and his former master has abused him much. He still suffers from the injury he got. He'd been branded and it bothers him much. But on the whole, he is a funny beast. But please don't tell Ron about him just yet, he is not that fond of ferrets, as you know. What bothers me – when I leave, I can neither take him with me nor leave him here, so I have to think of another shelter for him. Have you got any ideas? _

_Yours,_

_Harry_

Well, Hermione is a smart girl, she surely will understand, won't she?

The dawn was breaking, and Harry was still sitting on the stool in front of his tiny desk, watching his roommate intently. Indeed, be careful of what you wish for. Harry spent his whole school year stalking the Slytherin, and there his prey was, completely on his mercy, every single minute of the blond's time being known to him, every single breath noted.

Malfoy's sharp features looked relaxed in his sleep, and Harry could understand why most girls found the blond attractive.

Maybe Harry gazed a bit too intently, because Draco stirred and opened his eyes, looking right into those green ones.

"You haven't slept at all?"

"No."

"Because of me?"

"Partly," answered the boy evasively.

"Tell me, Potter – is it just your saving people thing or do you like me?"

"If I say it's saving people thing – will you be disappointed?"

"I don't think so. Why would I, if the result is the same?"

Harry smiled. He liked Malfoy like this. When not whining or scorning, he was a rather endurable being.

As if to surprise Harry even more, Draco suggested, "You should take some rest. I do feel better now." He patted the bed, and without second thought, Harry climbed in, settled down, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

He woke up from the realization he was having a small problem – his morning glory. He shifted cautiously, just to discover that Malfoy was snuggling against his back, one hand dropped over Harry's waist, warm breath upon his neck. It didn't really help to solve the problem. Harry made a feeble effort to free himself from Malfoy's embrace, which resulted in waking Malfoy up. Harry froze, feeling that Malfoy raised his head from the pillow. He decided it was not a time to be subtle, and wanted to jump out of bed, but a firm hand caught him by the mid-section, and a voice sounded into his ear, "Shh". Harry froze once again, astounded beyond measure, and wondering what was to come. What came, startled him like nothing before.

Malfoy's hand swiftly dove into his pyjama.

"Malfoy what…." squeaked he, when Malfoy firmly gripped his erection.

"Shhh," was the response. "Relax and enjoy." And a very seductive tongue ran over his earlobe, and the sharp teeth nipped on it. Harry barely managed to hold the escaping moan.

It was weird. He didn't see the person who was touching him, so he could imagine it was Ginny. He relaxed and came quickly, Malfoy had an undeniably amazing technique. Then he raised himself from behind Harry, and with "I'll be right back" left flabbergasted Harry just lying there.

He was back in some five minutes, during which Harry desperately tried _not_ to think about what happened.

Malfoy entered the room with a glass of something orange.

"I haven't worked out how that coffee machine of yours works, so I brought you some juice."

If he wanted to finish Harry off with this – he succeeded perfectly.

The dark-haired boy sat up on the bed, looking really worried.

"Malfoy… er... Draco. Are you quite all right?"

"Potter... er... Harry. For someone who nearly died in the night – never better."

"But still – you didn't have to do all _this. _Malfoy, but really…"

"Potter. As a half-blood brought up by Muggles you might underestimate what a life debt is, it's only forgivable. As a pureblood, I know what it is and I will stick to it, are you willing or not."

He pressed the glass of juice into Harry's hand and observed how the boy drank.

"Are you feeling refreshed now?"

"Yes, thank you very much."

"Fine, why don't you go and prepare breakfast then? I'm starving!"


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Draco was in a particularly good mood that day. Harry decided he might risk a chance of having a bit of information exchange with the blond.

"Malfoy, I heard you are kind of skilled in Occlumency …"

"Well, you would too, it you had parents trying to pry into your mind every now and then."

"Could you teach me?"

"Oh, there is something Perfect Potter isn't able to do?" jeered Malfoy gleefully.

"Malfoy, I won't beg you. If you don't want to or cannot, just tell me."

"You think I'm lying to you?" Malfoy was indignant.

"Would you believe it in my place?" wondered Harry.

"I guess not."

"So there you go."

"Fine. Have you ever tried either Legilemency or Occlumency?"

"Yes, but I wasn't really successful."

Surprisingly, Malfoy withheld his comments his time, and started explanations.

"It's quite easy. I figured it out when I was a little child. You should imagine you have a stone wall in front of your mind, so to say. This wall should cover all your thoughts. The wall must be solid, so no one could break it. Just try it. Imagine it."

Harry felt rather stupid trying to imagine a stone wall in front of his mind.

"Are you ready to try?" inquired Malfoy.

"I guess so."

Malfoy looked at Harry intently.

"Potter, you call this a solid wall? It's an old fence!"

"What? Already? Malfoy, how did you?"

"You mean without a wand or incantation? Potter, these are cheap tricks to demoralize young wizards. It's only the intention that matters. This magic can and must be done without raising attention."

Harry simply goggled.

"So you dumped your redhead girlfriend." stated Malfoy.

"How dare you! You bastard!" roared outraged Harry.

"Potter, you forget that YOU asked for this yourself. I must say this is fun."

The other boy reddened.

"OK, once again. I will not warn you!" informed the blond.

Harry concentrated himself on building a stone wall.

"Better, Potter, much better. But still I can climb over. Try harder! I can see how you miss Granger and Weasel!"

Harry winced and tried. In his imagination the wall reached the skies.

"This way is fine!" praised Malfoy.

Harry found this much more fun and useful than his torment with Snape.

"Now, however strong this wall of yours might be, there are means to break through it. They are different, from rather harmless, like distraction, to brutal, like destroying the personality."

Harry shuddered remembering Berta Jorkins.

"So our aim is", continued Malfoy, "to make the intruder believe that there is no wall."

"How is that?" wondered Harry.

"There are two means – one simple and one advanced. The simple one – you imagine a picture on your wall – it might be a memory, which you won't regret being discovered, or it might be a false memory, a fake."

"Will it really help?"

"It depends on how persistent your opponent is. In our case we must admit he is _very_ persistent."

Harry nodded.

"So in this case you proceed like this. You don't hide the first wall – he must see that you resist. Then behind this wall, you place several memories, which he already knows, or which are not dangerous. Then, you build second wall, with a picture, but behind it you also should put some meaningless or better fake meaningful thoughts. And then, behind the third wall, you imagine a small vault, where you hide all your secrets. You may as well build more walls."

"It must be very tiring…"

"It is, but it will be even more tiring to get to your secrets. Snape taught me this, and he is the best at it!"

Harry froze paralyzed. Snape, the best Occlumence ever. What was that Voldemort saw in his mind? Concentrate, told he himself, try to remember. It was very important, but he still couldn't understand why. The green flash of lighting, Harry flinched at it, and then Snape was running away, shooting spells, and Malfoy wasn't with him. But he wasn't fighting Harry, either! Did it mean…

"Potter, what's with you?"

Harry averted his gaze, "Snape taught you this?"

"Yes, he is really the best!" repeated the blond proudly.

Could there be the slightest chance, that Snape was that skilled that he was even able to hide his thoughts from Voldemort? But Harry clearly saw what Voldemort saw, only if it hadn't been a show put on to make Harry believe that Malfoy has nothing to do with it?

"Do you think he is that good that could fool Voldemort?" asked Harry warily.

"I'm rather positive, because he told me himself. And he is not a person to boast," claimed the Slytherin.

"He told you?"

"Yes, he was trying to help me, you know_, back then,_ but I couldn't tell anyone what I was doing, so I didn't tell him, though he promised _it_ will never know."

Harry nearly chuckled on this poignant choice of pronoun.

If the whole dream was not a fake, if either Snape or Malfoy weren't exaggerating, it could possibly mean that Dumbledore wasn't mistaken in Snape. But there remained the fact that the greasy git killed the Headmaster. Would Dumbledore go _that_ far to ensure his man in the enemy's camp?

"Potter, care to continue training?" Malfoy again disturbed his musings.

Harry's heart skipped a bit. He was an idiot! A blatant blithering moron! He allowed himself to relax too much. What if Malfoy sees something he wasn't supposed to see? But he couldn't give away that he had things to hide. He will need the time to build the "vault" for his secrets. Especially for that last thought about Snape. If somehow it reaches Voldemort, it will be the end of Snape, and maybe of some ingenious plan of late Dumbledore. Now he had a really good motivation, knowing that the Slytherin was able to look into his mind without any indication. That's why he answered as calm and polite as possible,

"No, not today... Oh, and thank you, Malfoy! It was very helpful."

"Anytime," smiled Malfoy smugly, and Harry found his genuine smile really charming. "And you know, I'm not suicidal enough, to look really deep into your head. Who knows what lies there? And what," he lowered his voice and made big eyes, "what if it's empty?" Wriggling his eyebrows, he retreated before Harry could think of any worthy retort.

In the evening Malfoy suggested a game of chess again.

"Fine, just wait till I wash the dishes," agreed Harry readily.

"Shall I help?"

That was something new.

"Malfoy, I sometimes am _really_ worried whether that assault damaged your brain. It is… _eerie_ to see you _helpful_."

"I'm sorry to scare you," his usual sneer was back, and Harry felt strangely relieved.

Harry noted though, that the blond became restless as the bed time grew nearer. Finally, he couldn't help and burst out, "Harry. I've just thought... What if it happens again... And you'll be asleep… And I won't be able to wake you up... And then I'll just have to go to him…"

"Malfoy. Stop whining. Climb on. Just don't push, and _behave_, understood?"

"Perfectly well," said Malfoy with the broadest smile Harry had ever seen on this pale pointy face.

After the rather sleepless last night, Harry fell asleep right away. He caught some glimpses of Voldemort, but nothing distinct, and then he dreamed of him and Malfoy playing strip chess, and Malfoy kept loosing, and Harry was sure that he did it intentionally, but couldn't help playing on.

"Harry, will you teach me the Patronus Charm?" asked Draco one day without beating around the bush.

"OK, we can try," Harry was tired of reading and needed a diversion anyway.

He reached Malfoy a wand.

"That's my wand, Potter."

"Yes, the incantation always better works with the person's own wand."

"Don't you remember why you took it from me?" wondered Malfoy.

"I do, I will keep an eye on you," smiled Harry. "Now, you will have to think of something good… A powerful happy memory… Something which makes you feel butterflies in your stomach…"

"Feel what?"

"Forget it, just a metaphor. Just think of something which would fill you with joy."

Malfoy frowned, "I can't think of anything like this"

"And I thought _my_ life has been dull!" exclaimed Harry in pretended shock. "Think. Concentrate."

Malfoy shook his head.

"I was thinking about me going to Hogwarts, when I learned to produce my first Patronus," tried to help Harry.

"I would rather go to Durmstrang, so this is not for me."

Neither had he ever won the School Championship or the Quidditch cup, reminded Harry to himself.

"Maybe this one," mused Malfoy to himself.

"The incantation is…"

"I know." interrupted Malfoy. _Expecto Patronum!_

Nothing happened. Malfoy looked gloomy.

"It must be too light magic for us, dark wizards," he sneered.

"No way," stated Harry firmly. "What have you thought of?"

"My father bought me my first broom. I was learning to fly and it worked!"

"I tried to think of my first broom flight too, back then. It didn't work for me either. Think again. Something about your family?"

The blond cringed. "Family. When you have it, you don't really know how to cherish it. It's just there. The stern father, the annoying mother. Only when you are about to lose it… You start to consider," Malfoy trailed off.

"Your friends?" suggested Harry another option. For him, thinking of Ron and Hermione helped a lot for producing Patronus.

"You honestly believe that thinking of Crabb or Goyle would make me… how you put it? Feel butterflies in my stomach?"

"Your first kiss?" didn't give up Harry.

"Nay, nothing really enjoyable."

Harry wondered if it had been as disastrous as his own, but bit his tongue.

"Your first love?" continued he suggesting, suddenly remembering the girl in his first grade at Muggle school, whom he secretly put a flower on the desk, but she threw it away. Immersed in his own thoughts, he didn't catch the change in the Slytherin's attitude at once - he got paler, and pressed through clenched teeth, "Are you shitting me?"

And with a "Fuck you!" he hurled his wand at Hurry, turned and fled, leaving a speechless Harry behind.

"That must have been _very_ bad", noted Harry to himself gloomily.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Harry almost got used to the mighty mood swings of his room neighbour, but Malfoy had more surprises for him in stock.

"Sleep with me," offered his room-mate matter-of-factly while they were settling for the night.

"We are already sleeping in one bed, Malfoy, in case you haven't noticed."

"No, I mean…"

"You cannot be serious!" Harry gave a choked laugh.

"I _am_ serious."

The sentence took quite a while to sink in. Malfoy was offering _it._ Harry blushed, then blanched.

"Not for the world!" he shifted and tried to make as much distance between him and Malfoy as was possible in such confined space.

"Potter, I never offer myself to anyone twice. Just so you know." Malfoy's eyes glimmered darkly in the dim lit room.  
>"Not to offend you, Malfoy, but I cannot accept your offer. I'm not gay."<p>

"But you could at least offer me a _helping hand_."

"You can wank on your own, for all I care."

"I cannot." Harry couldn't decipher that tone. He sometimes didn't quite get whether Malfoy was jeering or being serious. "I was traumatized beyond repair. Every time now, when I will try to touch myself, I will think back to that that time… It's conditioned reflex, like Pavlov's dog. I will remember the pain… And I do not get off on pain, you know."

Harry considered for a while who on Earth Pavlov might be. He blamed it on several book in psychology the blond read when he'd ran out of books on economics.

"You haven't even tried, how do you know?"

"I don't really want to check. Potter, it would only be polite, because I gave you my hand that time, remember?"

"I didn't ask for that," cut the Gryffindor spiteful.

"Damn you, you fucking prude!"

Malfoy scowled, cast him a hateful glance and rolled over him and off the bed. He settled himself on the thin mattress, which still remained on the floor just in case Aunt Petunia might wonder, turned his back to Harry and drew the blanket over his head. Harry just lay there watching the lonely figure under thin cover, and thought that he just didn't get the blond. And why did he always feel guilty? But he didn't manage to dwell in his new emotions, because the other boy thrashed abruptly, jerking his arm from under his blanket, eyeing it incredulously for a split second, then his body arched back in an impossible arch, eyes wide and mouth agape from a silent scream, and as though rebouncing, curling itself in fetal position, leaving out a shuddering breath, and then he suddenly went limp. It all happened during several seconds, and Harry was on the floor to hold the blond just before he closed his eyes and stopped breathing.

"Malfoy! MALFOY!" Harry screeched. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare to die on me! Do you hear me?"

_Expecto patronum!_ A silver stag erupted from his wand, circled around the boys, shook it's magnificent head and dissolved. "NO!"

_Ennervate! Ennervate!_ No result.

The door burst open, and very angry Aunt Petunia darted inside.

"WHAT IS…" seeing Harry, she broke off in the mid-sentence.

"Aunt, please leave, he is not breathing!"

Petunia stopped. "Shall I get the ambulance?"

"YES! NO! We cannot. We cannot leave the house. That's what he wants us to do. What shall I do, Aunt, what?"

"Try first aid exercises; remember they show it on TV."

"Oh well I'll try. You just go. I'll call you if I need help"

What was he saying? He needed help, he needed it urgently, Malfoy looked so pale and un-alive in his lap.

First aid, right. How was it? Flat surface. Mattress, great. Access of oxygen. Malfoy's shirt, that is, former Dudley's, was loose enough anyway. Mouth-to-mouth. It clicked in his brain, and he remembered the bitter-sweet kiss they'd shared. But no time for sappiness. Breath in, then palms on the chest, press, - one,- two, – heart massage. Breath in – palms on the heart, one, two. Nothing. Silence. He pressed his ear to Malfoy's bare chest – not a sound. Once again – breath in, one, two. Don't stop, told himself Harry. Just don't stop. Voldemort didn't expect Draco to be resuscitated. Breath in, press, one two, in-one- two. Then he thought he heard something. A hitch, or a hiss, or a strangled moan. Breath in, one two... that definitely was a cough. He pressed his ear to Malfoy's heart – was it beating again? - and felt a light touch in his hair, and heard a barely audible whisper "Will you stop saving me? I won't be able to pay it back in a lifetime," Harry thought he was about to cry. For the first time he saved a person's life, without magic, only with his bare hands and … mouth. He flushed bright red. Did Malfoy feel his inexperienced mouth-to-mouth? Weightless hand moved to caress his cheek.

"Seems you've become my guardian angel, Potter. Who would have thought?"

He stilled in Harry's arms, breathing evenly.

Aunt Petunia peeped in, gave a relived sigh and offered Harry a glass of water with a shaking hand.

"Is he all right?" she whispered.

Harry nodded.

"Thank God", exclaimed Petunia, and to the Harry's stunned face added, "It would have been a bother to get rid of a body, wouldn't it?"

And with an airy "Good night" she left, leaving a flabbergasted Harry to question the door "What was that?"

The morning after, the blond looked pale, exhausted, and brooding. Still he refused to stay in bed. Harry regretted that he didn't ask Malfoy to practice Legilemency, he was really worried what the blond had on his mind, and he definitely had something. He didn't dare to ask him, not to make him go through that terrible incident again.

Aunt Petunia asked him to arrange the laundry that day, so he went to the cellar to sort out the washing, and it took him some time, when he was in the living room again, Malfoy, whom he left in front of the TV, was nowhere to be seen. A slight sound was heard from the kitchen, and Harry disliked it very much. He dashed there, and nearly stumbled on the threshold upon the terrible picture there. Malfoy was standing at the table, large knife in his hand, deadly determination on the face, said knife aimed at his forearm, where the Dark Mark was. There was already one ugly gash just above the scull of the tattoo, and blood was coming in steady pulsing stream, marring the table, dribbling to the floor. Harry felt nauseous. He didn't know whether he cried out or not, but two things occurred simultaneously – he jumped at the boy, and the boy cut in for the second time, teeth pressed, not a sound coming.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry caught the blond's arm. The Slytherin seemed to just have noticed his presence.

"Harry. That fucked tattoo is cursed. I cannot slice it off no matter how I try. I just miss…"

"Of course it's cursed. Of course you cannot slice it off," while speaking that nonsense, he tried to wring the knife out of dead grip.

"Then I'll chop my arm off", shaking Harry off, Malfoy aimed the knife at the flexure.

_Expelliarmus_! The knife flew through the air in a beautiful sparkling arc. They both followed it mesmerized. It stuck into the wooden shelf on the wall across them.

Harry took Malfoy by his collar and shook profoundly.

"What were you thinking?"

"Stop it. You'll get dirty," whispered the blond.

_Episkey_! Remembered Harry, and the bleeding stopped.

"Potter, please, will you chop my arm off? Just please! If you want, I'll beg you on my knees!"

Before he started dropping Harry gave him a nice ringing slap in the face. "Stop being hysterical!"

"See this scar?" Harry raised his hair from the forehead so that Malfoy could better see it. "I got it from the same person you got your mark. But I didn't ask for it. I didn't have any choice. If I had, I'd rather die that night. But it was given me as exchange for my death. So I bear with it. Sometimes it pains so that I faint. But I had never had in mind to get rid of it. You bought your life for this mark as well, willingly or unwillingly. So bear with it."

Malfoy burst into tears. He clenched his fingers over Harry's shoulders and wept. "I'm scared! What'll become of me when you leave me? He'll eat me for breakfast."

"Don't worry," said Harry gloomily, "I will leave you only to give _it_ enough worries to forget about you."

"But what if he won't forget?"

"Malfoy, stop whining like Moaning Myrtle!"

"Leave Moaning Myrtle out of it!" suddenly Malfoy sounded almost reasonable. "She was the only one who supported me the whole year."

Glad that he was able to lead the conversation the other way, Harry inquired, "Do you know who she is?"

"Potter, I'm not stupid, I know she's a _ghost_!"

"Is it all you know about her?"

"I…I…" the Slytherin stuttered and got pink.

"Well, apparently you never bothered to ask. How very selfish of you."

Malfoy granted him his best scowl.

"She is remarkable in a way. She is the first known victim of Voldemort."

"No way! The whole school would have known!"

"Well, it only came out very recently and to a limited group of people."

"Let me guess as to this group" started Malfoy but Harry interrupted,

"While at school, Voldemort, not yet known under that name of course, discovered and opened the Chamber of Secrets. He held a Basilisk there, and made it attack any Muggleborn it might come across. So Myrtle died."

"How do you know?"

"She told me herself. Strangely enough, but she holds me for her friend, too."

Malfoy looked stricken.

"Potter, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every time calling Granger "Mudblood". I'm sorry for gloating when those attacks happened. I was a complete dork. I'm sorry."

"Will you tell it to Hermione when you see her?"

"Yes, I definitely will. And sorry for this, too." He waved his injured arm. "I made you rescue me once again."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

_Dear Harry, _

_My holidays are great. I was with my parents in Spain for a week; it was a nice family trip. What you've written worries me. Are you sure the Ferret is harmless? He might only pretend, but in the end he might turn out rabid and attack you. Ho did he end up at your place? Harry, please, be careful! Do you have his "tooth"? If you don't mind, I'll contact Moony, he won't rush to conclusions and might help you and your "pet". Just in case, I'll try to lecture Ron on ferrets and how they re-adapt under new conditions._

_Would it be OK for me to phone you?_

_Love, _

_Hermione_

He scribbled a quick, "Sure, any time", and sent Hedwig away. She's a darling, thought Harry. Of course, he'd thought of Lupin, too. But he couldn't contact him that easily, not everyone knew their nickname for Malfoy.

"Harry, I would like to try the Patronus charm once again", declared Malfoy the next morning.

"Are you sure?" Harry had his doubts taking into account how it came out last time.

"Yes. I believe it might come in handy some day"

Seeing Harry's reluctance he added, "I promise I won't curse you if I fail."

Harry smiled, and gave the Slytherin his wand.

Malfoy concentrated, and uttered, _Expecto Patronum!_

Silvery light erupted from the end of his wand and filled the room.

"Wow!" exclaimed both boys simultaneously.

"Care to share what memory it was?" wondered Harry.

"Sure." Malfoy practically beamed at him. "When you saved me that last time… As I came to my senses, I felt your ear pressed to my heart. Your cheek felt wet from tears (Tears? Harry didn't even realize he'd been actually crying that time) And then I touched your hair and felt … right. Butterflies in my stomach" finished Malfoy, staring at Harry. The dark-haired boy turned crimson.

"I saw you blush that time, too. Why did you blush, anyway?"

Harry felt obliged to answer to this sincerity frankly.

"Because I was afraid how you would react to mouth-to-mouth artificial respiration."

"It was dreadful. I should teach you proper kissing."

"But it has nothing to do with kissing!" protested Harry, watching Malfoy slowly advancing him. "And you haven't conjured a corporeal Patronus yet!"

"I will definitely succeed _after," _and he pressed his lips to Harry's.

Harry didn't close his eyes. He froze and stared. Malfoy stared, too. Slowly, very slowly, he moved his lips over the other boy's. It was maddeningly sensual. Harry couldn't deny it, and still he was so stunned he couldn't move a finger. And then Draco embraced him and drew closer. And deepened the kiss. And Harry was lost, he closed his eyes and forgot where he was, who was kissing him, it just felt incredibly, unbelievably good. Malfoy was a master at this after all. Wait. Malfoy?

But before Harry mastered the strength to push the blond away, the intruder had loosened his grip, moved his hands to Harry's chest and gave him a gently shove.

Harry stumbled backwards. Malfoy drew his wand, and for a terrible split second Harry thought the Slytherin would attack him, using his dishevelled state, but Draco uttered "_Expecto Patronum_!"

They both watched, mouths agape.

"What the hell?" muttered Malfoy.

The room was filled with silvery different shaped … butterflies.

"What the HELL!" repeated Malfoy, as he watched the beautiful creatures perform their obscure dance.

"This is the cutest Patronus I've ever seen," snickered Harry.

"You! Damn you! It's all your fault with those stupid butterflies in the stomach!" It was Draco's turn to become crimson. A sight no one had ever experienced before.

Harry laughed. Butterflies whirled over his head.

"Malfoy, you are great at the Patronus Charm, so it seems"

"Idiot!" barked the blond, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Harry smiled softly. Silvery wings slowly dissolved in the air.

The phone rang, and Harry jumped for the receiver, hoping to hear a well-known voice. And he wasn't deceived.

"Hi Harry! Hermione here! Is it all right that I called you? Can we talk?"

"Of course!"

"I mean the Ferret isn't listening?"

"No," just in case, Harry cast a _Silencio_.

"To be completely sure – we are talking about _the_ ferret, right?"

"Of course. The one you know being all mean and nasty."

"Harry, I ask you one more time – are you completely sure he isn't there as some sort of a trap?"

"Hermione, he nearly died twice in my arms, I had to manually resuscitate him, because he stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating, and no spell was working!"

He heard a sympathetic sound on the other side of the wire.

"How is he now?"  
>"White and fluffy," smiled Harry again.<p>

"Harry, no time for jokes! If you ask me, I'd say you act strange yourself. Didn't he use a spell on you?"

"No, I took his wand from him!"

"Maybe he mixed some potion into your food?"

"No chance. I cook all the food myself."

"Still…"

Traitorously, the glass of juice Malfoy offered him that morning crept into Harry's mind, but he shook it off.

"Hermione, do you know a spell or a potion, which allows you to stop breathing and your heart beating, and then get back to life without a counter spell or antidote? Because I'm not aware that you can use spells or take potions while almost dead and surely unconscious."

"But how did he get to your house?"

"That's the difficult one," admitted Harry. "He said Snape told him to do so, in order not to get killed. But I'm absolutely sure Voldemort doesn't know his whereabouts"

"That's all very, very fishy…"

"I know, but he had plenty of possibilities to hurt me, and never even tried."

"Fine, fine, Harry, let us assume he is above suspicion. What are you going to do when you'll have to leave the house?"

"Could you ask Lupin or Moody about that? Better Lupin first."

"Will you take him with you… on your quest?"

"What? Of course not! I don't trust him _that_ much. And he still cannot do the stuff you and Ron and the rest of DA can do. Just imagine, I had to teach him the Patronus!"

"Patronus? But it is really the magic of the light. Did he manage?"

"You betcha!"

"And? What it is?"

"You won't believe it, but never tell him I told you, he'll really kill me then."

"All right."

Harry lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper, though the silencing charm should have protected him anyway,

"It's a swarm of butterflies!"

"Unbelievable! I haven't heard of a multi-corporal Patronus before!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Harry, are you sure it _was_ a Patronus?"

"Hermione", reproach in his voice.

"Well of course you are. It is just everything very strange. You sound terribly as if you _like_ him!"

Harry spluttered, "I don't like him, but I don't hate him anymore. I just can say that he can be nice, and polite, and I think Voldemort can heal everyone from being haughty. It's just he still hates Ron very much."

"And what about me?"

"I guess it's the same thing like me and him, he doesn't hate you. Do you want to hear for yourself?"

"What?"

"Malfoy. Do you want to talk to him?"

"OK, I guess we could try…"

Harry cast down the Silencio, "Hey, Malfoy! Malfooy!"

Malfoy came downstairs.

"What are you shouting for? Did you finish your secret meeting?"

"Nope. Remember what you wanted to tell Hermione?"

"What? That? Now?"

"Yes. Right now, she's on the phone," Harry reached him the receiver. Draco took it cautiously, as if it might bite him.

"Umm Granger? Hi to you too. Potter here wants me... No. _I_ want to tell you that I'm really very sorry about calling you mudblood. I really am. For every time I did it. Sorry," he dropped the receiver and snuck away.

Harry picked it up, he didn't want to force Malfoy to continue conversation.

"Well, you see now?"

"Harry, are you sure he is not under _Imperius_?"

"I used _Finite Incantatem_ several times on him. I'd rather say when he is free from any curse and any influence from his family and housemates, he is quite all right."

"I see now what you mean, I will try to help him as much as I can."

"I knew you would do it. That's why I love you so much, Hermione."

"Bye then, Harry, I call you again as soon as I have an idea."

"Bye Hermione, I miss you much."

"Miss you too, Harry."


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

"Malfoy, you sure know a lot about Dark Arts," inquired Harry as if by accident.

"Theoretically, yes."

"Don't start with the bullshit!" interrupted Harry.

"Listen, Potter, if I say theoretically, it means theoretically, my father is not that much of a monster as to teach a ten-year-old Unforgivables, and as you know well, underage wizards aren't supposed doing magic outside the school. And we don't have Dark Arts on our schedule, in case you might have missed it!"

Yet again Harry felt guilty of thinking about Malfoy worse than he was. The blond was seemingly offended.

"I'm sorry, I thought…"

"Well, as usual you thought wrong!" retorted Malfoy harshly.

"Well, thank you for the nice chat!" spat Harry angrily and turned to leave.

"Wait, Potter," the Slytherin stopped him. Harry halted, surprised.

"Let's try to talk like normal people for once", suggested Malfoy conciliatory.

Harry agreed. Talking "normal" wasn't their strong side. They might practice it as well.

"OK," he started tentatively. "I'm just doing a research on… you know… And I need to know as much as possible about what he has in stock."

"To be honest I don't really know what he has in stock, besides Unvorgivables. I heard stories of him developing a curse which caused people to commit suicide. Kind of Imperio, but very precisely aimed. Once applied on a person one might be sure that they do your dirty job themselves. But I don't know the incantation."

"I think it's better so," Harry was appalled. How very convenient, just tell someone go kill yourself, and he does so.

"Then, another one I've heard, but it was from my mother side, the Blacks' story – they thought of reviving people from dead. One needs a bone of a father, a blood…"

"Been there, seen it," interrupted Harry. He wasn't ready to go through the whole experience again. Though it was new to him that the ritual itself was the legacy of the ancient and most noble house of Black.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy didn't comprehend. "Wait. You mean that's how he got…"

"Yes, that's how it got it's new body. With the bones of his father, who died at his hand, and _my_ blood," elaborated Harry bitterly.

"But still he couldn't kill you…" mused Malfoy. "What happened there?"

"Didn't your father tell you?"

"No, he didn't. We never talked about it. He only told me that his lord is back and that I have to serve him, too. I didn't really want to, I swear. I just didn't have the choice."

"There's always a choice," stated Harry grimly.

"You know Potter, I'm not a fucking hero like you, and death wasn't an option for me!"

"Sometimes when you choose death you earn life instead," uttered Harry, not really knowing where it came from.

"Spare me your holy morals," exploded Malfoy and stomped out of the room.

"Five minutes of 'normal' talk. Not bad, eh?" said Harry to himself as he turned back to his book.

They quarrelled _a lot. _Either Malfoy got confident enough that Harry wouldn't throw him out, or Harry got tired of his presence. Starting from "There's too much salt in the soup" –"Shut up and cook yourself" over "Turn the fucking lamp off I need my sleep" – "Go sleep under the stairs for all I care" to who was the first to go to the shower. Only in Aunt Petunia's presence they maintained some kind of truce.

So Harry learnt to appreciate the quiet moments with the Slytherin. Those rare moments were mostly in the morning, when the blond apparently wasn't awake enough to bicker, or maybe from time to time he remembered the life debt.

That particular morning, after another evening row on who will have the TV – till Harry's Aunt shooed them away - Harry was cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. Draco was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and reading Financial Times Uncle Vernon was subscribed to. It looked so _domestically_, Harry felt sickening. Because no way one would feel cozy around a Malfoy. To disperse those strange thoughts, Harry turned on the radio. Some music was playing, and he relaxed into it.

…_on this summer's day then you might as well take the sun away_

The music reminded the clock-beat and rain-drops at the same time, the women's voice had so much sorrow in it, it sounded pained and a bit hoarse. She _felt_ what she was singing.

Slowly, Harry proceeded to washing the dishes and cleaning the cooking table.

_Can I tell you now as you turn to go_

_I'll be dying slowly till the next hello_

Something clanked, and Malfoy jumped, muttering curses. Brown liquid was flowing quickly from the upturned cup.

"Let me," started Harry, but the blond grabbed a sponge and started rubbing vigorously, carefully avoiding Harry's gaze.

_I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch_

_I'll talk to your eyes that I love so much_

Lamented the woman on the radio. Malfoy stopped in the mid-motion.

Harry was at lost as to what affected the Slytherin so much.

_If you go away as I know you must_

_There's nothing left in this world to trust_

_Just an empty room full of empty space _

_Like the empty look I see on your face_

_And I'd been the shadow of your shadow _

_if you might have kept me by your side_

"Damn you Potter, I hate you! I absolutely hate you!" Malfoy hurled the sponge at Harry, and never looking up, stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the door shut.

"What did I do now?" yelled Harry at the closed door. The door didn't answer.

The phone rang, and Harry hurried to pick up. He was happy to hear Hermione again.

"Hi, Harry," she greeted. "What's the news? Everything's fine?"

"Never better," grumbled Harry not sounding convincing at all.

"Something happened?" inquired Hermione.

"No, nothing really. It's just I can't quite get him. At times he is all nice and sociable, and at times I don't get what bites him, he's so strange!"

"Oh Harry, I knew it wouldn't be easy!" she sighed. "I met Moony the other day, in the city. I told him everything, he's ready to help, he doesn't hold any grudges against him. Moony will check the possibilities, one of them would be that he'll end up at the Burrow. Naturally, when Ron leaves with us… Otherwise… Anyway, you will have to talk to him about it,"

"Hermione, he'll never accept it!"

"Well I think if the choice is that or death, every normal person would clearly choose the Burrow."

"It's Malfoy we are talking about, not every normal person!"

"Well, Lupin also suggested his own place, but considering his risky position right now, he'd better think of a hiding place for Tonks." Hermione sighed.

"Last option would be the Grimmauld Place," she continued.

"But! It's the Order's Head Quarter, Snape knows about it, and…"

"Well, exactly, there are too many "buts". So you'll have to incline him towards the Burrow, and leave Ron to me."

"Ha, it's easier said than done. Both of the tasks, I mean. Well, I'll give it a try. Anyway, we haven't had a row since this morning."

Hermione chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Harry, just nothing!" but Harry felt she was smiling into receiver.

"When will you call me?"

"As soon as Lupin manages it all. Bye then?"

"Bye, and take care!"

"Take care, both of you!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**. The song I'm referring to is _If you go away_, cover by Emiliana Torrini. That was the first version of the song I've heard, and I thought it was really fitting.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"Draco?" Harry started cautiously, knowing from the start that the talk was heading to no good.

"Mmm?" the blond was absorbed into reading his favourite _Financial Times_.

"You know, before long, we will have to leave this place."

Malfoy looked up from his paper, annoyed.

"Can't I stay?"

"You know perfectly well you can't." stated Harry.

Draco sighed, and cast his eyes down. "What do you suggest?"

"There's a possibility that you might end up at the Bur... At the Weasley's house."

"No!" the blond jumped up, tossing the newspaper aside. "No way will I go there!"

"Why?" tried to be calm Harry.

"Because... Because… I hate them! I absolutely despise them!"

"But what did they do to you?"

"They are blood traitors, but to me it doesn't matter anymore." He paused.

"What is it then?"

"What the matters is, is that they use you. The always have. They use you to achieve their means!"

"No one has achieved any other means with me but getting in trouble or killed!" Harry became angry.

"You just can't see it, Potter, because you are all goody-two-shoes, and think all people are like that. I can assure you – they are NOT!"

"What do you know of people, Malfoy, you spoiled brat, you've looked down on everyone since you were born!"

"I might have been, but it's better than to come to someone called Harry Potter and become his friends just because he is the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"That was what you were about to do back then!" reminded him Harry.

"To me, it was a matter of politeness!"

"Oh, _that's_ what it was! Who would have thought, to me it seemed your goons just attacked us!"

"I hadn't known you were Harry Potter when I met you in Madam Malkin's shop back then! And I talked to you!"

"Ha, big deal!" huffed Harry.

"To me, it was! I'd never talked to a stranger before!" exclaimed the other and realising what he had just said, turned a deep shade of crimson.

Harry was confused. So it was Malfoy's first attempt at socializing back then? No wonder it turned out that poor…

"Fine," waved Harry off, not wanting to press the matter. "We'll let it be so far."

"No we won't," persisted Malfoy.

"Malfoy, just calm down and don't say anything you'll regret later!"

"I'll rather regret if I _don't_ say it!" exclaimed Malfoy forcefully.

Harry crossed his arms on his chest.

"I just want you to know that the Weasleys – well, I don't hold anything against the elder siblings, they are probably all right, at least the Twins, they are freaks, but they … never mind, but the two youngest…"

"Malfoy, I warn you for the last time – I won't listen to your ravings", the dark-haired boy turned to leave. The Slytherin caught him by his shoulder and turned to face him.

"The Weasel uses you as his cover, if you only could hear him how he always says, wait till Potter gets you, and the girl, she's just a slut!"

Harry reacted in a moment; a mighty punch sent the injurer flying to the floor. After a second Harry was over him, hands clenching the throat, "Take. It. Back."

"No!" croaked the blond, "because it's true! She had it with every second boy in the school, there are legends about her."

Harry's mind went blank with rage, "Shut up", he shook the boy so he bumped the floor with a heavy thud.

"Do you know who was her first?" without cringing, continued the blond.

"Shut the fuck up!" Harry unclenched one hand, and brought it to the back of his jeans, where his wand was.

Fear flicked across Draco's features. Wand at the offender throat, backing off, Harry pressed, "Get the hell out of here."

"Nothing pains like the truth?" Malfoy sneered.

"Out, while you are still able to walk", the dark boy could hardly contain his rage.

Draco scrambled to his feet, "Fuck you, you fucking bigot! Marry that whore and have a heap of children, but beware, they might not even look like you!"

Harry cast a Stupefy, but Malfoy ducked and launched at him, disarming the rival. They rolled on the floor, punching each other viciously, Harry yelling, "Get the fuck out!", and Malfoy hissing, "No way, I'm too young to die!"

It was a wrestle for life or death. Neither of them restrained himself. Wand forgotten, they blew violent strokes, kicked, scratched, tore at clothes, blood spurted from their noses and mouths, but no one wanted to give up.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" a roar made them both stop in mid-motion.

"Look at yourself!" Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, face confronted with disgust. They indeed looked ridiculous. Faces covered in blood, clothes torn, arms scratched. "Fighting like guttersnipes, shame on you!"

They got to the feet, trying in vain to put their clothes in order. Neither of them dared to look up.

"I don't want to witness something like this again." Petunia's voice was sharp like a razor.

"Aunt," Harry found his voice. "He must get out."

"Potter," that moment Aunt Petunia sounded tremendously like Snape in the Potions Class, "give me a single reason why _you_ must not, after ALL THIS", she waved around.

"This is my home and…"

"This is MY home, and just say another word, and you _both_ will be out!"

The boys sank their heads.

"Now off you go, to your room, and I don't want to see or hear either of you till tomorrow morning!"

Malfoy nodded in sign of comprehension, and left. Harry hesitated a little, weighing whether he should continue arguing or not, decided that it was no good, and turned to leave.

"Potter", stopped him Aunt Petunia, "Didn't you say that sending the boy out will kill him?"

He nodded.

"Apologize."

Obediently, Harry started, "I'm sor…"

"Not to me, idiot! I don't know what the reason was, but surely, no reckless words must be punished with death. Off you go!"

She waved him away.

Harry headed for the bathroom first. He washed his face, blood dripping from his fingers, discovered, that by some miracle no irreparable damage was done, used some healing spells to prevent a sprouting black eye, and to stop nose bleeding, and reflected upon their row.

It hurt ever so more, because he felt Malfoy had been right. The worst was, the git had been right about Ginny. Harry cursed. He always thought he and Ginny were meant to be together, because it was only natural to marry best friend's sister, and become one big happy family. And Hermione would marry Ron, making the family even bigger and happier. He always took it as destined, that he and Ginny will end up together. He was kind of doomed to it, like he was doomed to fight Voldemort, no matter how hard he tried to escape it. But did he really want it? The more he looked, the more distinctly he saw, that he did everything to avoid her, and it didn't bother him at all. He conveniently used the excuse of his quest to distance himself from her. He didn't write letters, under the pretence that it might bring her in trouble. He never even dreamt of her since he left Hogwarts. So why had he been so mad at Malfoy? Probably out of malignance, he really sometimes had to vent his anger. Or simply out of habit. Or just because Malfoy had that special gift of getting under his skin. He didn't want to ponder over it any further, and headed back to his room, he indeed had to apologize.

Entering the room, he took a deep breath, staring at the floor, and shot out, "_Imreallyverysorry_!"

Then he finally dared to look up. Malfoy stood facing the window, hands clenching the windowsill, knuckles white – the sheer picture of despair. After a few second, which he probably used to compose himself, he uttered, "I wish I still could say 'fuck off, Potter' to this… But now… I don't know about you, but for me… things changed. I just want you to know… I've never ever valued anything, because I got everything I wanted. Before now. Now, I've learnt to value family – I lost mine, and I learnt to appreciate the substitute in the form of you and your Aunt. You might be mad at me, but for now, you are the only family I have. I've learnt to value freedom – being walled-up here for a rather long time. I've learnt of value life, my life, when I'm about to loose it, and the life of the other's, watching how you care for people, and last, but not the least, I've learnt to value you – because it's you my life depends on." He turned abruptly. "That is what I was going to tell you back then, but… it just got fucked up." Having said that, he headed for the door, striding past Harry.

The Gryffindor was so dumbstruck, that he didn't dare to look into the boy's face first. "Where are you going?" he exclaimed anxiously, finally giving his neighbour a closer look. Draco halted at the door.

"Bathroom," he said weakly, face still covered in drying blood. "I guess I've just said that I value my life." It was when Harry noticed tears shimmering in the boy's grey eyes.

"Don't", said Harry softly, not really sure what he meant. And after a second's hesitation, "Come", he opened his arms.

Draco didn't ponder long, and stepped into Harry's embrace. He pressed his face into his shoulder, and muttered between sobbings, "I'm so fucked up, Potter, you just cannot imagine how fucked up I am!"

"Now, now," the dark-haired boy patted him on the back, "The one fucked up over here is me." He cautiously cast a cleaning and some healing spells over the blond's face.

"Why life is so unfair to us, Potter, why? Why can't we live a normal life, have fun, like all the teens, why do we have to run, hide, fight, plot something, why aren't we even allowed to have a bit of love and privacy?"

Privacy… Come to think of it, Harry had it only with Malfoy, here in his small room, because no one knew about them, when all his previous actions had been common knowledge. Never ever he'd spent that much time just with one person, tête-à-tête. He smiled inwardly. Malfoy was his very private secret.

"What are you laughing at?" came the blond's irritated question. As usual, Harry couldn't contain his smile, and it shone brightly upon his face.

"I just thought we are having a lot of privacy over here."

"But not love," whispered Draco bitterly, locking his eyes with Harry's.

Harry felt overwhelmed by the shocking power of those words and the intensity of that gaze. He looked closely into those desperate grey eyes.

"Can we pretend that we are in love? Just for tonight, just this one time?" whispered the blond in a croaked, unsteady voice, eyes pleading. Noting that Harry's defence is flaking, he pressed, "It will be our very. Private. Secret." The last three words Draco emphasized with soft kisses along Harry's neck.

"Just one time?" wavered Harry.

"Yes. No one will know. And we can pretend nothing happened."

"Will you be able to?" doubted Harry.

"Never. But I won't hold grudges if you will."

With that, Draco assaulted Harry's lips. Harry felt warm, very warm, like the rays of sun hovering over his skin, but this tender warm quickly became little flames of desire blazing inside his body, as soon as Malfoy intensifies his efforts. Harry's head swam, but a troublesome idea bothered him, not allowing letting himself go.

He gently pushed his soon-to-be lover away. Answering his questioning look, he inquired, "And you are doing this _not_ because I'm Harry-fucking-Potter, the-boy-who-lived?"

Malfoy smiled. Looking into those deep green eyes, he clarified:

"No. It's because you are the boy I talked to in Madam Malkin's shop. The boy whom I imagined to become my closest friend. Because you were the first person I estimated as my _equal – _before that I only knew _inferiors_ and _superiors_. Because you made my blood boil and my mind race in the search of how I could surpass you at school. Because you saved me uncountable times. Besides…," he took a deep breath, exhausted from overflowing emotions.

"_What's in a name? That which we call a rose_

_By any other name would smell as sweet_," chanted he, slowly pressing Harry onto the bed.

"What was it?" wondered the boy.

"Shame on you, Potter, that was your William-fucking-Shakespeare. Don't you know him?"

But Harry wasn't up to a literary soiree. He drew Malfoy nearer and started kissing him in earnest.

It resembled a lot their fight not an hour ago, but instead of punching, tearing, scratching, there was kissing, licking, stroking. Harry felt intoxicated, his world was spinning and he couldn't remember when he'd felt so exhilarated for the last time, if he ever had at all.

Draco nearly came when Harry lowered himself to take his length into his mouth.

"No!" protested he, "I should be doing it!"

"Hadn't it been your secret fantasy for ages?" smiled Harry wickedly and licked the head. He was doing it for the first time, he himself experienced it only once with Ginny. He remembered how insulted she looked when he asked her where she had learned to do it. But he didn't linger on Ginny long, because Malfoy in ecstasy looked absolutely breathtaking. Too late Harry was alerted with "Oh Merlin I'm…", when the blond came right into his mouth. Harry spluttered and cursed.

"Sorry," panted the Slytherin, "it was just too much."

These words nearly send Harry over the edge. No one had ever been that excited by him.

"Now," naughty gleam in Malfoy's eyes foreboded something wicked, "Payback is a bitch."

And he mirrored Harry's previous actions, but when Harry was just about to come, he drew back and whispered, "Not yet, I want you to come inside of me". He should not have said it, because that very moment Harry came all over his abdomen.

"Fuck," growled they in unison.

"Sorry," echoed they each other after a short pause.

"Seems we'll have to start from the very beginning," sighed Harry.

"Are you sure you want to go all the way?" questioned Draco, concern in his voice.

"I should be asking you," retorted the green-eyed boy.

"I've wanted it for ages."

"Ages?" Harry goggled.

"And what did you think?" snorted Malfoy, silencing Harry with a deep kiss.

"Look," he whispered into Harry's ear. "Now comes the most difficult part. You will have to prepare me." Not letting him come to senses, he took the wand from the night stand and produced a lubrication spell over his and Harry's hands. Harry still goggled. Draco took his hand and guided it towards his bottom.

"You will have to slowly put two or three fingers into me and stretch me!" Harry looked shocked.

"If you cannot, I can do it myself" This idea sounded strangely appealing to Harry, he was instantly hard again, but he decided he would not back away from whatever came.

"Let me", the words came out very coarse, and the blond shuddered at the sound and at the following contact with slick cold skin of Harry's fingers.

After two fingers were in, Draco cringed. Harry watched him closely.

"Just continue", ordered him Draco. "Try to find the prostate. You should be able to reach it if you crook your finger…"

Harry seemed to have found that mysterious prostate, because Draco gave out a sound the boy had never heard before – a sound which send jolts of pleasure right through Harry's body to his groin.

"Yesssssssss," it almost sounded like Parseltongue.

Mesmerized, Harry froze.

"Do it again," urged him Malfoy.

So he did.

"Enough!" wailed Malfoy after a while. "I want you in me. Ready?"  
>Harry could only nod. He never could have imagined his first time would be something like this. And <em>this<em> was simply miraculous.

Without a moment's thought he pressed into that beautiful pliant body. Draco's face contorted a grimace.

"Does it hurt?" asked Harry worried, making an inhuman effort to hold still.

"Hurt? After what I came through – it's sheer pleasure!" And it was, after a moment, when Draco adjusted and Harry began moving.

Harry came suddenly, and it was so overwhelming that he lost the ability to hear and see and think for several seconds. When he came back to senses, he saw Malfoy bringing himself off. This wonderful sight took away his senses for another while, that's because he wasn't sure whether he heard or just imagined hearing "Love you". He didn't want to believe he heard it, because somehow it seemed too good to be true.

Exhausted, they lay in bed, too emotionally overstressed to be able to sleep.

"Does it mean I'm gay?" asked Harry feebly.

"Well, first time doesn't count. It probably just means that I'm irresistible for both genders," smiled the blond smugly.

Suddenly, Harry cursed himself, turned very red and muttered, "Malfoy, I'm really an idiot because I haven't asked it before… You… were you… I mean was it…"

"Potter, if it is your clumsy attempt to find out whether you "deflowered" me, so yes, you did. But in retrospect I haven't been completely virginal, so you don't have to marry me, if it is your concern."

Harry's blush deepened.

"What do you mean 'not completely virginal'?"

"Merlin's beard, Potter, I used to do it with girls!"

Harry's mouth formed a perfect O at this, and Malfoy couldn't help but laugh, "I even needn't ask whether I'm your first. But you did well." Harry was happy to hear that little praise. He planted a kiss onto chest, then something attracted his attention there and he stared intently.

"Malfoy, where do all those scars come from?" wondered Harry, tracing his fingers over the blond's marble chest, following long thin barely visible white lines, where must have been very deep slashes.

Malfoy's expression changed in an instant, become shut out and distant.

"You don't want to know, believe me".

"But I do! Who did it to you? I will…" Harry broke off, trying to decipher Draco's expression. Slowly, very slowly, realization dawned upon him. "No way!" He gulped, and recoiled, terrified. "No. Snape said there won't be any scarring…"

Instinctively, Draco drew the blanket over his naked chest and looked away. "There was… And there is… And they'll remain for the rest of my life," spat the boy bitterly.

"Draco, I'm… I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry I never said it earlier," repented Harry. How did they manage to avoid the unlucky encounter in that forgotten bathroom till now?

"It's OK. I was about to cast Cruciatus on you," Malfoy looked back, his face softened.

"But it's not lethal. And if Snape hadn't come by, you could have…"

"Forget it. Really, you saved me so many times already, that it doesn't count. Besides, I stomped on your face on the train, remember?"

"Malfoy, it was like another life, doesn't it feel that way?"

The boys fell silent. Because it really was another life. Hogwarts express, the school, the friends, everyday chores, and now they both knew, neither of them was going back until the war was over. And for the time being it seemed like never.


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Harry was in the shower. Since he did it with Malfoy last night he hadn't been able to think about anything else. Just this. He still felt Draco's touches over his skin, he still remembered his scent, the texture of his white skin, the sounds he made. Merlin, he _was_ gay. Gay! What was he going to do? What will he say to the Weasleys? Hermione would probably understand, but Ron – never. Maybe if they didn't do it again those memories would fade… After all, it was his brightest impressions since ages. Yes, definitely no more sex with Malfoy. Even if he threatens him. No more! He was so engrossed in his thought that he didn't hear the door open and Malfoy entering the bathroom. He was alerted only when he'd noticed a movement with a corner of his eye. He turned abruptly to face Malfoy, wearing only his briefs.

"What the hell are you doing here?" hissed Harry, "Get lost this very instant!"

"Potter, why always so rude? I just came to suggest washing your back. I bet no one had ever washed your back for you?"

It was true, but Harry wasn't going to acknowledge it.

"How did you get in?"

"You didn't lock the door."

"I did."

"Nope."

Harry didn't argue. It was highly possible he'd forgotten to lock the door in his disheveled state.

"I don't need my back to be washed."

Malfoy pouted. "You just don't know how nice it feels. Or are you afraid that you won't be able to resist my charm?"

"Malfoy, you are so full of yourself."

"Well yes, but I also quite liked being full of you."

"Malfoy, let me remind you – yesterday it was said 'just one time'. One time means one time."

"Merlin's beard, Potter, I didn't know you were so obsessed with sex. I really came to wash your back! See? I even have my briefs on. And I still haven't climbed into the shower with you, I'm waiting for your permission."

Harry knocked his head against the tiled wall. Hard. No-no-no! his brain screeched.

"All right. But keep your briefs on. And only to wash my back! I mean it!"

He turned away and didn't see that cat-got-the-canary smirk on Malfoy's face.

If only Harry knew what an erogenous zone a man's back can be, he'd throw the blond out the very second he entered.

Malfoy took the sponge, and generously spread shower gel over Harry's shoulders. He started with an almost innocent massage. It's just the sponge slipped away and out al the shower stall. Accidentally. He continued with his bare hands. He slowly descended from the shoulders, massaged Harry's ribs, discovered to his disappointment that Harry wasn't ticklish, and continued to work Harry's clenched muscles. By the time he was around the waist, Harry was half-hard. And then Malfoy did something wicked – he brushed his fingertips over the spine in one long stroke. It felt like a current rush, and Harry nearly jumped. Then Draco licked the same path. Harry moaned. Delighted, Malfoy doubled his efforts – he covered Harry's back with kisses and licks, and when he gently bit at the juncture of neck and shoulder, and Harry exclaimed a sharp and needy "Ah!", Malfoy knew that he'd won. His hands started roaming freely over the naked body in front of him. He found the nipples and brushed them with his fingerpads. Harry shuddered. Merlin, he was so sensitive. He pinched the nipples, but that was where Harry started to protest, "Malfoy, you promised – only my back!"

"As you wish," obliged Malfoy, wicked gleam in his eyes. He peppered Harry's back with kisses, lowering himself, and caressed his arse.

"No!" Harry jumped around, but before he could protest, Malfoy took hold of his erection. He slowly, torturously stroke it, chanting, "Harry, I only want you to feel good. Yesterday, it felt as good as never ever in my life. I want you to experience this too. It's sheer bliss. While stroking, he snuck his slender finger to Harry's opening, and slowly eased one finger inside. Harry froze. "Just let me show you…":

In the corridor they bumped into Aunt Petunia, who was exiting Dudley's room.

"What were you doing in the shower together?" she demanded an explanation.

"Mrs. Dursley, I just washed Harry's back, he damaged his arm a bit while we were struggling yesterday and couldn't do it on his own."

Aunt frowned, and left.

"Don't you ever dare do it!" Bursting into their room shouted Harry indignantly.

"What exactly?" Malfoy was all innocence.  
>"Barging into the shower! Talking to my Aunt like this!"<p>

"Like what? Should I have said, O, you see, Mrs. Dursley, I've just finger-fucked your nephew so hard that he couldn't stand, and after that I fucked him on the tiled floor so his knees hurt but he enjoyed it nevertheless."

"You enjoyed it too."

"O, immensely!"

Since then, there were no rows, but also not much games, TV or books, because they just fucked. Anytime and everywhere. A couple of times Aunt almost walked in on them, one time she nearly caught them kissing fiercely, they managed to jump apart, but they didn't manage to unclasp the fingers, grabbing each other's t-shirts frantically, so Petunia assumed, they were at a fight again and gave them another thorough brainwashing.

After that, she carefully approached Harry with an unexpectedly generous proposal, "Harry, I just thought. You are living in one room all the time, maybe you quarrel because of it. If you'd like to, one of you could sleep on the sofa in the living room."

Harry barely managed to bit back a laugh, the offer was ages too late.

"Thank you, Aunt," he answered solemnly, "but we kinda got used to it".


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

On a rare occasion they ate dinner all together – Malfoy, Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia got earlier home that evening, looking happy, and at the table she chatted lively,

"…and Marge finally went home, she said the dog's asylum alerted her, because one of her "babies" attacked someone there, she'll have to pay a penalty, and I do so hope they make it a fairly big sum!"

Obviously Petunia still couldn't forget "bad mother and even worse of a wife".

"And Vernon looked at me and he recognized me!" she was elated. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Harry nodded absent-mindedly.

"Absolutely!" agreed Malfoy enthusiastically. "I wonder what methods Muggles use while healing such complex maladies."

"You should have attended Muggle studies while at school," grumbled Harry. He found it unnerving when his Aunt and Malfoy were on the same wavelength.

"Harry! You are wrong! I have never met a wizard as well-bred and polite as Draco here!" interfered his Aunt.

Malfoy granted him a dashing smile and wiggled his eyebrows.

"You haven't met that many wizards to decide," dared Harry.

"Oh believe me I had! And if I had the choice I would have never face some of them for the second time."

"And who forced you?" Harry was really interested. Petunia only once spoke of magic in his presence, and it hadn't been really good-humoured then.

"Boy, did you forget who your mother was? And we lived together, if I may remind you! And that git… That crooked-nosed greasy fellow…What was his name again... That strange name...He practically lived at our place. Ah, Se-ve-rus," spelled Petunia and looked at the boys.

Harry and Malfoy choked simultaneously.

"Snape?" exclaimed Draco, goggling incredulously at Mrs. Dursley.

"Ah, yes, Snape! Do you know him?"

"He was our professor in school," answered Malfoy, because Harry was too dumbfounded to be able to speak.

"He was so desperately in love with Lily."

Harry thought he didn't hear clearly.

"Aunt, please, I think I misheard – you mean that nasty bastard was in love with _my mother_?"

"Yes, and I thought she loved him back, at least they were great chaps, until she somehow turned to that arrogant father of yours."

Harry felt his world spin.

"How do you know?"

"He lived nearby, and they played together since they were kids, and he often came over, like I said, till that Potter somehow talked your mother into seeing him."

"Afterwards Lily often told me, that he turned into something evil, she said, just to spite her, and that they weren't friends anymore. So I wonder how he became a professor…"

"He killed Dumbledore." Harry had to put it to a stop. The idea of his mother over familiar with Snape was killing him.

It was now Aunt Petunia's turn to choke.

"What I don't get," put Malfoy in, "how could he love her? She was a mu…ggleborn!"

"So what?" exclaimed Harry indignant , "Snape himself is a half-blood."

"What?" Draco nearly spluttered his tea. "I never knew it!"

"Surely he wouldn't go boasting around such background. But come to think of it, Voldemort is a half-blood, too. His mother was a witch, it's true, she was of Slytherin ancestry, but his father was a Muggle…"

Harry got carried away before he noticed how Malfoy looked. The blond was right about to vomit.

"He's sick! Absolutely and abnormally sick!"

"And he killed his father, and all the Riddle family, still while at school, did you know it?"

"Enough barked Aunt Petunia. I don't want to hear anything about death while at table. Off you go!"

Harry trotted away, he was glad to be able to escape this conversation. It was already too much talk about Snape for one single dinner. He still couldn't stomach the idea of the greasy git loving his mother. It was too wrong and disgusting to him.

On the stairs Malfoy caught up with him.

"What Riddle family?" asked he, continuing the interrupted conversation.

"Ah sure you don't know. His true name is Tomas Marvolo Riddle. Lord Voldemort (Malfoy again looked about to vomit) is just an anagram. I thought your father told you about it."

"No I think my father isn't aware of a third of anything about his favourite master… How did _you_ learn it all anyway?"

"One must know his enemy… But I haven't learnt everything yet," Harry knew it was the time to finish this conversation. Enough revelations for today.

"I just thought…" mused Draco aloud. "The protection of this house – is very complex, isn't it? How does it work?"

Harry eyed him suspiciously.

"O no no," waved the Slytherin off, I'm not asking about the details. It was just one thought that struck me – how comes Snape so simply gave me your address. If it had been a Fidelity Charm, he might have been the Secret Kee..."

Harry froze in his tracks abruptly, so that Draco bumped into his back.

"Wonderful, Malfoy! Just brilliant!" turning around, Harry simply hugged the blond.

Now he knew how to hide the Slytherin – _Fidelius Charm_, and he'll be the Secret Keeper.

Harry got a note from the Order telling he should be prepared to depart a few days before his birthday, so Draco had to leave earlier, though even Aunt Petunia suggested him to stay. But as she herself had to go into hiding, it was impossible for Draco to stay. It was arranged, that Lupin will come to perform the Fidelius, and bring Draco to Grimmauld Place. Though Harry didn't tell Draco the details. The Slytherin obviously didn't want to think about the departure. He enjoyed being himself too much.

'What am I to you?"

The question, out of the blue, took Harry by surprise. He wasn't sure he could answer the question just yet.

"If you are not quite sure, I will help. Soon I will leave you, right?"

Harry could only nod.

"Let's say… we won't see each other till you win."

"But... if we have to?" Harry suggested.

Draco mused. "If it is the case let's pretend that we are just on civil terms."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco stopped him with a gesture.

"And if... if during that time – I hope it won't take you _too_ long, Potter, can I trust you on that? Well, if during that time you will sometimes think about me… If after it ends you would want to come back to me to tell me it's over in person – I'll be waiting. Just…" And he waved off, lacking for words.

Harry closed his eyes in comprehension. "And if… and if…" it did taste terrible on his tongue, but he made himself squeeze it out, "if IT wins?"

Draco stared into his terrifyingly dramatic green eyes and said, "Don't worry, then anything won't matter anymore."

A ring at the door burst the shocked silence.

"Done."

Lupin lowered his wand. The Fidelius Charm had been cast. "Now only Harry will know your whereabouts."

"Right", said Harry. "You will go here," he reached a piece of paper with Grimmauld Place's address on it. "The house has a Fidelius on itself, but there are rather many people who know the location. Snape among them. But if I get the meaning of Fidelius right, no one will able to find you there until I tell them you are there. Besides," Harry paused slightly, looking at Malfoy intently, "It will probably, maybe reinforce it's old protections when _untainted_ blood flows in." He looked at Lupin questioningly.

The man agreed, "This is likely, the house has so much blood magic in it. He maybe will even be able to remove all those hexes we weren't able to get rid of."

"Oh, if it's really the case – Malfoy, would you mind a little favour, be so kind, remove that darn portrait of that old screeching hag!"

"Why," chuckled Lupin, "She'd probably be delighted to have a pureblood ancestor of the ancient house of Black for a visit."

"House of _Black_?" Malfoy finally realized. "You mean the house of my grandaunt?"

"I think yes, she must be your grandaunt…" nodded Harry.

Malfoy paled somewhat, trying to hide his shock, "And what if… what if Aunt Bellatrix comes there? She'd dreamed to own the house for ages…"

"Sorry to disturb your panic, Malfoy, but Sirius left the house to me, and by every magical law of succession it is _mine_, and that bitch might just piss off."

"You didn't ever say that you own a house. Why are we stuck in this hole then?"

"Because it gives me extra protection, even stronger than Fidelius, _blood_ protection, what I hope the Black house will give you."

"Boys, enough discussion, time to say good-bye", interrupted Lupin. "We are short of time, Tonks and I have other appointments today…You've got two more minutes," having said that, he tactfully retreated to the kitchen.

"Why can't I go with you?" tried Draco one last time.

"I thought we discussed it already?"

"Still… why?"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"But I don't care if I get hurt!"

"But I CARE! I hate it that people by my side die. I haven't saved you all that times so you'd be able to get yourself killed by following me!"

"But you will take Weasley and Granger with you anyway!"

"It's different. We three are in the same boat anyway. It cannot be helped. "

"Why cannot I join you?"

"Because they are used to risking their lives, and I don't want you to get used to it too. Besides, I want someone to stay behind and wait for me. Someone whom I could return to."

That sounded pretty much like a confession.

"Fine. I'll be waiting," said Draco solemnly and kissed the Gryffindor, sealing the promise.

"And… about your coming birthday, Harry," fidgeted Draco. "_Many happy returns_!"

Harry nodded his understanding. He saw the deep meaning of those three simple, overused, mostly empty words.

Draco gave him a firm generous hug. When he stepped back, Harry involuntary followed him, trying to capture his lips one more time.

"Tut, tut, tut, Potter," stopping him in mid-motion with the palm across his chest, Malfoy chid, "Next kiss from me you will get only after you've defeated the Damned Lord."

To stunned Harry's face he explained, "You need more motivation, don't you?"

Harry turned crimson and tried to avoid looking at Lupin, who came back to the room and did his best to hide a soft chuckle.

"Time," put the former professor in softly.

Draco gave Harry's hand another firm squeeze, and turned to leave. Harry was too busy fighting upcoming tears to say anything.

Draco left towards the obscure future.

The next day, Harry would follow his own path.


	13. Epilogue

**WARNING: This is bitter. If you wish for a happy-end, please kindly wait till I manage another epilogue, thank you!**

**You've been warned. I don't know how it has come out like this, so please don't ask!**

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue 1.<strong>

_Book 7 Epilogue compliant_

* * *

><p><em>5 years after the Final Battle. The Ministry of Magic, Auror Department.<em>

The door to the Deputy Head Auror's office opened without a knock, and Harry looked up, surprised,

"Malfoy?"

The blond carefully closed the door, Harry watched him mesmerized.

"_Petrificus totalus!" _Harry froze.

"Sorry, just to be sure you won't interrupt me," Malfoy took a deep breath, hesitated a little, then started,

"I always wondered why you didn't come, _Harry_", Draco's acid voice was flowing smoothly. "You know, I was so stupid and naïve that I hoped. And I waited. I waited and thought, you must have been busy. Victors are always busy, fame and what-not. I waited until you completed your Auror's training, waited while you were fighting the rest of the Death Eaters", to pronounce that name was seemingly painful.

"I hoped _then_ you will come. Until today. Well, my congratulations on your engagement."

He took the _Daily Prophet_ out of his pocket. On the front page under the big front line _The Boy-Who-Lived Will Marry the Girl of His Dreams_ the young couple was waving happily towards the reader.

"My congratulations on being a coward and choosing what everyone expected you to choose."

"Malfoy," The blond startled, but seeing Harry had no intention of attacking him, quickly recovered his posture.

"The spells do not work in my room - security measures," sighed Harry softly. "I- I can explain…"

"What exactly can you explain? That the boy who defeated the Dark Lord didn't have the guts to show up as gay? Or that a Malfoy was an inappropriate match for a hero of the Wizarding World?" Harry looked stricken.

"Draco, I-"

"Do not bother", Draco said disregarding him. "I will marry too, my mother has found someone _proper_ for me, I guess. So we both will live a _normal_ life, hating every single moment of it. Congratulations, Harry. I wish you can live with that _happily ever after_." He turned to leave.

Harry jumped up.

"Draco, wait, it's still not too late…"

The blond looked back, and his eyes, that gaze, reminded Harry of their big row back then, that was the step to their unification, desperate, lonely eyes pierced him to the core of his soul.

"It's. Five years. Too. Late," Draco said gravely pointing out every word and opened the door.

"You promised to kiss me all over if I win!" Harry exclaimed hastily.

"I lied. Like anyone is going to believe a Malfoy," he mocked. "Farewell," he stepped out of the room.

"Can we meet sometimes?" shouted Harry desperately, not even caring that he might be heard.

"No. Never. Not with my consent."

And he left.

Next time, they saw each other on Platform 9 ¾. Their children were going to school.

_All was well_. And it hurt like hell.

* * *

><p>AN. That's all, folks. So far. I have in mind another, happier ending to this story, or maybe an Epilogue to this Epilogue.. But sadly I cannot promise to post it soon…


	14. Epilogue 2

**Dedication**: to my readers, reviewers and followers.

**A/N:** 1. Not beta-read, sorry, proceed at your own risk as I'm not a native speaker. If someone is so kind to help me with this problem – please PM me!

2. I am totally out of the fandom, and probably never coming back. This is my farewell to Harry and Draco. Consider it also my therapy against the severe mental injury the book's epilogue made me suffer. I decided against writing an EWE-ending, instead I wrote an Epilogue to my Epilogue, because nothing in Harry's life is easy!

* * *

><p><strong>EPILOGUE VER. 2.0<strong>

"Potter."

"You are not surprised to see me, Malfoy."

The blond kept same indifferent gaze with which he regarded the other at the platform a month ago.  
>"I'm just thinking if there is any punishment for an Auror for trespassing on private property. What if you would have scared my wife?"<p>

"I'm here unofficial. I know that your wife is in France, as are your parents," Harry made a step from the window, at which he'd just Apparated, towards the desk where Malfoy was sitting.

"All the more. I remember telling you once I do not wish to see you. In private least of all," the man tried to stare the intruder down.

"You might have mentioned. But look," Harry showed an untidily overwritten peace of parchment. "Here is the letter from my son in Hogwarts."

"Albus Severus," Draco drawled, not even looking at the parchment. "But I sincerely try to and still cannot see any reason for intrusion."

"Here," repeated Harry. "16 inches. And ten of them - Scorpius here, Scorpius there!"

"I found it ironic that the son of Harry Potter the Gryffindor was sorted into Slytherin."

"I would have been sorted into Slytherin as well, but I asked the Sorting Hat not to."

Draco raised an eyebrow to that, but Harry didn't explain further and continued instead, "My son hated the very idea of being in Slytherin till he met your son on the train and decided he wanted to be in the same House with him!"

"Potter, if you think that I somehow influenced Scorpius…"

"No, that wouldn't come to my mind, I rather worry that you would forbid -,"

"What?" Malfoy even barked a laugh. "I'm not my father, Potter. My son is free to decide whom to stick with. In fact, despite him being really shy, I want him to have friends. _True_ friends," added he somewhat bitter. "Though I was rather taken aback at _this_ as well," he put out from the desk's drawer scroll, "Twenty inches, Albus Severus here , Albus Severus there... and at the end – can we spend our holidays together, Father, please?" Draco tried to mimic a child's voice.

"Same here," Harry waved the parchment once again. "And both James and Rose write, the two of them are always together!" And he asked blankly, "What do we do?"

"Leave them - and mainly me - alone?" suggested Malfoy.

"That's not the problem! I'm worried if they learn…"

"How will they, no one knows what was... "

"No, I mean if they learn that we are on such terms now!"

"On which terms exactly?" Draco again raised an eyebrow.

Harry stared at him. Malfoy shrugged, "I don't know what you mean. If we have to meet in front of our children, we will pretend we are on _civil_ terms. The usual. I wouldn't mind your son visiting us on holiday. I do love my son and want him to be happy. Even if it takes one little Potter to make him smile. Now will you _please_ leave?"

For a moment, Harry sat silent.  
>"Maybe now you can understand me," he sighed.<p>

"Understand what?"

"Children. _Normal_ family. That was what I'd always wanted and couldn't have... with you."

Draco gave him a derisive glance, "Potter, after what you've been through, you should know that nothing in your life can be _normal_!"

"I gave it a try. It almost worked." Harry tried a smile, but failed. "My children are my life, but there is nothing more in it. My wife… we are good friends, but nothing more. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd got someone else… aside"

Malfoy snorted, but restrained himself from a snide remark.

Harry looked hurt at the lack of reaction. So he blurted, "You've forgotten everything?"

"You are hard to forget," stated Malfoy calmly. Harry flinched and looked up. "And do not mistake it for a compliment or a confession, it's just one cannot make a step in the Wizarding society without hearing a word about you. So please stop haunting me Potter, and get out of here already!"

Harry smiled feebly, "I already started to believe you really didn't care."

"Care? You've come to check whether I still _care_?" Malfoy got angry. "You know what it feels like when you stop being yourself and start living a pretended life, life that is only in some parts your own?"

"Been doing exactly this for the past 18 years."

"Potter, I might remind you yet again that it was your decision back then," the icy tone chilled to the bone.

"Yes, and it was the wrong one," admitted Harry calmly. "I understood it even more distinctly when I saw you after all those years... But you looked like you didn't care… And then I got the letter, and here I am and we are _talking_, and it seems the longest talk between us _ever_."

Draco sighed.

Then, with effort, he uttered, "You could have come back then, just to tell me all this," it came out strangled.

"I couldn't," Harry looked pained. "I really couldn't. I made my decision, and if I'd come, I would have changed my mind the instant I saw you… And then... Then I would have doubted all my life if I had made the right choice…"  
>Silence fell.<p>

They needed time to think it over.

"You now, I never told anyone that I'd mastered the Patronus Charm," started Draco all of a sudden.

"Well, no surprise, considering its form," remembered Harry smiling.

"Exactly. I practiced, while in hiding, and it took a _different_ form."

Harry was interested.

"Care to have a look?" Malfoy asked, stepping out from behind his desk.

"Yes," Harry nodded, eager to see what his trainee managed to achieve.

With a smooth swish of his wand and as much as no incantation, Draco produced a swarm of butterflies.

"But -," started Harry.

"Look!" the blond interrupted.

The silvery swarm of butterflies swayed and morphed into a rather distinct shape, one of a human figure. It took sharper features, and Harry could distinguish disheveled hair, a loose t-shirt and even glasses… round-shaped glasses. He saw himself, from 18 years ago. Patronus-Harry was holding a butterfly in his hand.

Real Harry gulped. And stared.

Patronus-Harry moved, and reached the butterfly towards Harry in an outstretched hand. Harry reached out, but it dissolved into the thin air. Tears came up, and he tried to wish them away.

Slowly, very slowly he drew out his wand.

With a smooth swish he produced his own Patronus. It was still a stag. But to his amazement, Draco saw a butterfly on its nose, slowly moving its wings.

"See?" asked Harry meekly. "But not half as cool as yours."

Once again they fell silent, just watching intently, trying desperately to read each other's mind, but in vain.

Malfoy gave up first.  
>"You know, it may sound sappy, but if you leave now, I will have to kill you," he was smiling through tears.<p>

"Do I look like leaving?" wondered Harry.

"It was a kind reminder, just in case," said Malfoy, still not daring to come closer.

"You know, on the other hand, if I ever leave, please do it," Harry made a step towards the blond.

Malfoy smiled even broader. Then his smile faded, and he said very quietly, "I sometimes think that if I'd kissed you back then - remember? - when I was leaving your house, that maybe you would have come for me," it sounded so childish and naïve that Harry's heart hurt.

"I probably wouldn't have let you go in the first place."

"So it was all my fault?"

"No, it was definitely mine. And I would like to try to make up for it. It's just… I'm thinking what we are going to tell our children..."

"I'm pretty sure Scorpius and Albus won't mind."

"And to our wives?"

"We haven't been together since Scorpius was born."

"I'm sorry."

"You better be! She is a good woman and deserves a hot man and not a piece of ice like I was to her…"

"I'm not sure about…," started Harry.

"Always the good Gryffindor! We will think about it tomorrow," interrupted Draco. Then he wavered yet again.

"Potter. One more thing. So there won't be any misunderstanding," he braced himself and proclaimed, "I want everything – or nothing," he paused and, looking Harry straight in the eye, continued, "I still can pretend that I've had a wonderful dream of Harry Potter stopping by…"

Harry smiled, understanding, and shut the blond up with a hand to his mouth. "Everything, Draco. Forever. And no regrets."

And the next second they were crushing each other into the tightest embrace and a mind-blowing kiss, mingling laughs and tears, trying to erase all those lonely years, the sorrows and pains, and finally feeling _whole and alive_.

P.S.

_"And, my dear Scorpius,"_ the message from his father said at its end, _"after receiving your letter me and Mr. Potter decided on spending some time together during the holidays. I invited Mr. Potter and Albus Severus to our place for Christmas holidays…"_

The boy jumped up, yelling, "Al, Al, look at this!"

The black-haired boy skimmed through the lines and laughed, "It worked!"

"And very quick!" jubilated the blond.

"And you told me prying into parents' mind is bad!" reproached Albus.

"I would have never dared it!" Scorpius was indignant.

"Yeah, only spying on your father is all right with you!" mocked the other.

"If I hadn't seen his strange Patronus, I would have never believed what you told me!" justified himself Scorpius.

"And I told you already, I just wanted to know what bothered my father so much, and why he was like that when no one was looking. All I wanted was him to be always happy! And it worked!" explained once again young Potter.

"Now Mother will be able to move to France, like she's always wanted!" Scorpius cheered.

"And mine will be able to play Quidditch as much as she wants!" echoed Albus.

"And we'll be staying together all the time!" chanted they, holding hands and jumping on the bed.

* * *

><p>Nothing was <em>normal<em> in Harry's life. But it was better than well.


End file.
